


Uprising

by Litwater44



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe-Rhaegar wins, Angst, Dark Jon Snow, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon is a badass, Ned steals Jon away, R Plus L Equals J, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-04-08 01:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 158,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Litwater44/pseuds/Litwater44
Summary: Rhaegar won the battle of the trident and the Targaryens emerge as victors in the rebellion. Ned Stark, filled with anger and lost on his losses, steals Jon away from the tower of Joy. Years later, Jon leaves Westeros to become the man of his own destiny...and finding a chilling truth that will shake his beliefs.





	1. Chapter 1

**This story is centered on Jon Snow, and his quest to be more than a bastard son of Ned Stark.**

**Here are some points to consider before you read this story.**

**Roberts's rebellion failed, he was defeated in combat by Rhaegar Targaryen. The Tully, Stark, Baratheon troops fled the battle of the Trident at the sight of their leader slain.**

**After the defeat of Roberts's army, Rhaegar arrived in Kings landing and took the crown from the mad king and placed him in a black cell underneath the red keep. Shortly, Aerys died all alone, shouting to burn them all.**

**Ned Stark and his men used sleeping darts to knock Arthur Dayne, Gerold and Oswell unconscious, fearing a battle between the king's guard, a battle he thought he wouldn't emerge victoriously. Ned entered the Tower of Joy to see Lyanna already lifeless in a bed soaked with blood, and a small bundle wrapped in red and black blankets. As he held the baby securely in his arms, Ned looked into the indigo eyes of Lyanna and Rhaegar son. He searched for a way to spite the new king of Westeros and brought the baby to Winterfell to claim the baby as his bastard son, thinking it's a way to repay for his lost sister.**

**The royal family still lives, once the word that Robert failed at the Trident spread, the Lannisters made no move to position themselves to place them in the game of Thrones.**

**After Rhaegar was crowned at the Sept, he ordered all houses to ride to Kings landing to bend the knee and claim him as their rightful king. The Tyrell succeeded in the siege of Storm's end and captured Stannis Baratheon, the younger brother of Robert was sent to the wall for his defiance and Renly because he had no part in the war was to be fostered at Highgarden. House Tully, Arryn was pardoned but Ned stark did not appear at the Red Keep, he called upon Jon umber in his stead, stating a Stark must always be in Winterfell. The small council was outraged at the hidden slight; Rhaegar waved away the accusations and pardon the North. Having no wish to start another conflict when the Rebellion ended only a moon's past.**

**Well, I think that's it! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Winterfell**

Jon Snow, the slight upon lady Catelyn's honor, the half brother of the Stark children, the base born son, and the bastard of Winterfell was tense. He stood tall in the solar of Ned Stark, the warden of the North, and the warden to the secret of Jon's mother's identity.

"My answer is no," Ned said intensely. he gripped the paper tightly that was in his hands. "Do not ask me again."

Angry lilac eyes glared at him. Jon shifted in his leather chair as it creaked from age. "Why can't you tell me who she was!" he almost yelled.

Ned dipped the black quill on the parchment, his hands moving in an erratic pass as he scribbled his words on the paper. "Go to your room Jon, it's late" He ordered, not once looking at the young man who was seated across from his desk.

Jon balked; he clenched his jaws as anger erupted in him."I deserve to know!" He raised his voice. For all his life he wondered who his mother is. What she was like or if she is even alive. To Jon, it was wrong to have to think about that. His deep lilac eyes were the only answer his father gave to him. Ned explained he slept with a woman who sailed Lys. It was common to find women or men with indigo eyes walking about from that land.

Ned seemed to find this unfitting to answer as he kept his attention on the parchment.

Jon swept his hands in the soft dark brown curls of his hair, sadness gripping his heart. The past three years he did his utmost effort to push the truth out of the dark, but he realized it would never see the light.

Jon narrowed his eyes at Ned who was still busy writing letters back and forth. Bitterness at his bastard status and the mystery woman his father refuses to talk about replaced his sadness.

"Why is it so horrible about my mother that you can't share her with me!" Jon finally shouted as he sprung from his chair, the four leg seat hitting the wooden floor.

Ned frowned at the impact of the sound it made and looked at Jon. "This will bring you nothing, Jon." He motioned his hand to the fallen chair. "Pick the chair up and please leave. You have training with ser Rodrik tomorrow, and you need rest."

"Fuck training!" Jon yelled in anger.

"Watch your language," Ned warned, his grey eyes clouded over as it showed a stone wall. A look that often shows when the mention of his mother reached his ears.

Jon overlooked this and continued his questioning. "I lived here for years waiting for the time you will tell me of her, but you never did!" He said.

Ned sighed, he rubbed his face. Tired of the long day of overlooking the castle as it was his duty; a duty that he would not consider he had to do years ago.

Ned dropped his quill on the desk and leaned back in his chair and looked at Jon, considering.

"You wish to know about your mother?" he asked.

Jon nodded as he picked up the chair and sat down. The two sat in silence as they stared at the other. One is steaming with apprehension while the other is debating telling the truth that will cast a danger on his family; a danger that would have no threat to happen if he didn't seek revenge on Rhaegar long ago.

Ned opened his mouth. Jon edged forward in his seat, anticipating the reason behind this mystery will, at last, be conquered.

"As I said before, my answer is no." Ned rolled the parchment and stamped the Stark sigil to seal it. "And give this to Luwin in the rookery." He extended his arm over the desk to hold the parchment in Jon's area of reach.

Jon shrunk away from the paper as if it was a contagious thing that harmed his very being.

He once again stood up. He pressed his hands on Ned's desk while he glared at him. "Everybody should know who their mother is!" Jon yelled. "No matter if I'm a bastard! I deserve to know who she is!"

Ned placed the parchment back on the desk and stared right back at Jon, a steely look still on his face.

"Sorry son, but it's not meant to be."

 _Not meant to be?!_ Jon growled and swiped his hands. Books, notes, parchments were knocked clean off the desk and crashed to the floor. Pages were flapping in the air and were floating everywhere in the solar before falling gently to the ground.

Ned bolted from his seat. "JON THAT'S ENOUGH!" His yell shocked Jon and silenced him. The room was deadly quiet.

After several minutes of doing nothing but staring at each other, Jon grabbed the parchment his father had wanted him to deliver and made his way to the door.

"Jon." His father's low voice compelled Jon to turn around. Ned gazed at him through cloudy grey eyes. "Don't ever forget, you are a Stark."

Jon swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "No, I'm not. I am a bastard." He turned his body forward and closed the door with a slam.

...

Jon stalked in his way to the rookery. Despite his actions, he couldn't help but be mad at his father. He knew the anger will linger until he talked about his mother; a mother Jon wanted to desperately know.

He slightly crumbled the parchment as he sniffed. He stopped his walk to look at the courtyard. This particular area held so much meaning to Jon. This is where he and Robb spent countless hours trying to emerge on top to prove who was better. This is where he taught Arya how to use a bow, and this is where he came to realize what the term bastard meant.

_**Clank' Clank' Clank'** _

" _ **You are no match for Aemon the dragon knight! I am the best knight that ever lived!"**_

_**Clank' Clank' Clank'** _

" _ **You may be good, but I, the lord of Winterfell shall defeat you!"**_

_**Silence** _

" _ **But Jon, that can't happen."**_

" _ **Why not?"**_

" _ **You are a bastard."**_

Jon struggled to hold the tears at bay as he sniffed loudly, and he wiped his eyes. Small gentle snowflakes dropped from the dark skies and rested on his hair. He caught one out of the air and looked sadly at it as he thought to himself.

_I do not belong here._

The snowflake melted in his palms under the watchful gaze of his indigo eyes. Footsteps can be heard in the distance, and Jon hastily dried his eyes and wheeled behind him to confront the person.

Theon Greyjoy peered at him curiously through the snow and took a swing of ale from a cup.

 _He is drunk._  Jon thought in disdain. His lips curled, and he straightened his back in the preparation with the squid.

"What are you doing here bastard?" Theon smirked at him from behind his cup as he shifted uneasily on his feet.

"Nothing you should be worried about," Jon replied shortly.

Theon tilted his head to examine him more closely. "You were crying, weren't you?"

When Jon had nothing to say, Theon chuckled. "Not going to say anything bastard?" he asked as he sipped from the cup, drips of ale escaped from the rim and fell on his lips to his chin.

"Do not call me that no more," Jon growled. At this moment, anything can set him off. He felt like a ticking Dragon as it got itself ready to spray enemies in a burst of flame.

Theon howled with laughter, and he shook as he held his stomach "What are you going to do bastard! Broo-"

Jon lunged forward and smashed his fist in Theon's face. He stood over him as Theon groaned in agony. He then kicked him over in the stomach, causing the Greyjoy to gasp.

Theon grimaced then his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he stayed on the snowy ground, unconscious.

Jon scowled and threw the parchment on Theon's body. He rushed to his room, his mind made up.

He was leaving.

He will never know that Ned wrote a request to Rhaegar to ligentnimize him for the Stark name.

* * *

Sunlight rays peeped into the Room to shine on the two sleeping forms on the bed. Ned stark slept blissfully with his wife in his arms. He slowly opened one eye and smiled. He was just about to go back to sleep when a loud fist knocked on the door. Ned signed and the move to get up. He unhooked Catelyn from his shoulder and stood up from the bed. The knocks still persisted as he opened the door.

Jory froze his hand mid-air as the door was replaced by the stern face of the warden.

He lowered his hand and nodded at the man he guards with his life. "Milord," He said in greeting.

Ned nodded back at the guard. "Jory." He glanced behind him to see his wife yawning as she sat up in the bed. He looked back to Jory. "What is the matter?" he asked concerned.

Jory took a deep breath and met the lords searching gaze. "Jon is missing."

Jon stood on the ship as he and many others were watching the city of White harbor get shorter and shorter with every breath they took. He rubbed the white fur of his direwolf, and ghost eagerly met his hands and whined.

Jon turned his back at the city and looked ahead, to his path, his future.

To Essos.


	2. Chapter 2

(Location: Winterfell)

2 moons later

**Ned Stark**

Dinner was quiet. It has been this way for a while now. The table, for the most part, was reticent and if someone had to say something it was in hush tones and they would fall back into silence. Arya had a dark scowl on her face as she looked at her plate. Bran looked pensive as he picked at his food with a fork. Robb was taking small bites of his food, face set in a hard line. Sansa was eating her food with her usual courteous of a lady as Rickon who sat to her right was smashing his carrots into small fragments. Catelyn has the appearance of her normal self as she helped Rickon eat his food. Theon was the sole person missing at the table.

"Where is joywn?" Rickon asked at no one in particular as he looked around the table to find his cou-brother.

"Stop asking that. He is not here," Arya snapped, still looking at her plate.

Rickon looked at her in curiosity. "Bu-"

"Stop asking!"

Rickon looked hurt, tears filling his eyes. Sansa looked to her little brother before looking at Arya and said, "Don't talk to him in that way. He is only a baby!"

Arya looked up from her plate to glowering at her sister. "He has been asking the same question too much. It's annoying me."

"Everything is annoying to you, like sewing dresses which is a requirement for being a lady."

Arya stood up from her seat and slammed her hands on the table, causing the utensils on the table to rise in the air and fall back on the table and making a slight ringing sound.

"Arya Stark!" Catelyn called out. "Sit back down!"

Arya sat back down and crossed her arms, scowling. "I don't like sewing," She muttered.

Bran stopped picking at his food and glanced at her. "It's something you have to be good at."

"Not if I don't want to." Arya glared at her younger brother until he shied away from her gaze.

"You have too." Catelyn gave her daughter a strict look. "It's proper for a lady to excel at sewing."

Sansa placed her fork on her plate and clapped her hands together. "If I can sew well enough, there's a chance that I will be able to make dresses with princess Rhaenys." Her eyes were glowing with enthusiastic dreams.

Arya looked at her sister with incredulous clear on her long face. "You sound stupid."

Sansa blinked and glared at her. "What are you talking about?"

Arya rolled her eyes as if it was simple. "You keep going on and on about this. It's never going to happen. It's like saying I'm going to marry prince Aegon."

Bran chuckled and Arya slapped his arm.

"It is possible!" Sansa hedged herself. "I can sew with the princess and talk about all types of enjoyable things!"

"A Stark is never, ever again going south," Ned said, seriousness coating his voice. "We Starks are not going to be subjected to their abominable games again." His father tried to play the game, and his brother and sister died for it. If Ned could, his children are never going to see the King or any other southerners.

The table descended into silence with Sansa seeming to be downhearted at his will. Ned saw that Arya was fidgeting in her seat, and her lips trembled as if she wanted to shout out something.

He was right as Arya leaned on the table and shouted, "Why are we talking about stupid sewing and the stupid south?! Jon is missing!"

Everyone turned to Ned and he can see the fire in Arya's, Bran's and Robb's eyes. Catelyn also looked worried. Ned knew she didn't like Jon's presence, but that didn't mean she wished for him to die. A 14-year-old who is all alone in the world is not favorable.

"The search party was not successful," Ned admitted. His children's face soured as he continued. "I sent every raven to every house in the north. They did not see him I'm afraid. He is still mis-"

To everyone's shock, Arya grabbed her plate and hurled it to the wall behind her. The plate shattered as it made contact and the broken pieces crashed to the floor that made Rickon whimper at the sound it had.

Arya had her back facing them, shoulders shuddering. The table was too benumbed from shock to react immediately and they all stared at the youngest Stark girl.

"Arya?" It was Catelyn's whisper that broke the dome of silence.

There were now sniffing to be heard and a few deep hiccups that jerked her body. Arya slowly turned, instead of showing her face to them like Ned thought she would, she ran out of the room.

Robb and Catelyn stood to go after her, only for Ned to signal for them to sit back down and they did it falteringly. _I should be the one to comfort her. It is my fault that Jon is_ _gone._ He was not a person that would balk at conceding when he was wrong. He was wrong now, and he would say that to the faces of every one of his bannermen without having to think twice. Ned took the responsibility to take care of Jon, to teach him his sums and make him feel that he has a family. But he failed. He failed as a father and a brother.

 _I'm so sorry Lyanna._ Ned mentally lamented. This was his entire fault; the blame couldn't be aimed at anyone else besides him. _If only I hadn't taken Jon from that tower…_

Years ago, Rhaegar winning the battle of the trident was well known as was the death of Robbert Baratheon who Ned considered to be his brother in all but name. Lyanna passed away in her bed that was full of winter roses and full of scarlet blood that seemed to stick to her clothes. Amongst all the blood was a baby wrapped up in a red and black bundle. All of these deaths served him as a reminder and Ned took the baby away…

Jon could've had a loving mother in queen Elia. He could've had two loving siblings in the form of Prince Aegon and princess Rhaeyns. He would've had been a prince instead of being a Snow. And the most important of all…he could've had a better father in Rhaegar Targaryen. Ned did not like the man. He can say that he loathed him. But the king was reported to be a fair father to both of his children and Jon missed out on that. Having a fair father does not drive any child away from his home and so, Ned Stark was not fair to Jon by any means.

Ned traveled through the castle to arrive at Arya's door. The sounds of sobbing behind the door made him pause and press his ear on the wooden surface. He just stood there, listing to the way she let out her sorrow in the collective sound of gasps and more cries. Ned's shoulders slumped. _I'm only good at causing other people to pain it seems._ His child was hurting, the king was hurting, and Jon was hurting all because of him.

When he couldn't stand hearing his daughter's cries anymore, he conservatively opened the door in order to not disturb the poor girl and entered. Arya continued to bawl on her bed with her face down on her pillow, oblivious of his intrusion.

"Arya?" Ned closed the door behind him and barred it to have the privacy that he did not want to be disrupted.

Arya ceased her sobs and hiccups in her pillow and shouted, "Go away!" She hiccups again and continued to sob.

Ned tiredly sighed. Consoling his daughter will not be easy as some people may think. Arya is wild, almost as wild as Lyanna in her days. She was a passionate and loving girl. She was nicknamed 'Arya underfoot' because of her tendencies to roam around the castle night and day despite her mother's complaints. She can be headstrong at the wrong time, like the argument she had with her sister earlier. Though, Arya can sometimes be too lured in her emotions. Out of all his children, Arya took Jon's disappearance the hardest, with Robb following close at second place and Bran at the third spot.

"Arya, look at me." Ned sat on the bed, giving Arya his utmost attention.

Arya sniffed, wiping her nose as she picked up her head from her pillow to look at him. Without her stuffing her head into the pillow Ned can properly see her face. Arya's eyes were the color of red from the shiniest of rubies, and tears of grief flowed down her pale cheeks like the unruliest of rivers. Her breath came out uneven and her braided hair was in shambles, though it was always a mess, to begin with.

"You made a raucous at supper tonight," Ned casually said, stroking her hair.

Arya flinched as if she was going to get punished, but he had no intention of doing so. "I didn't mean to," She murmured. "I don't know what came over me. It's just…"

"You miss your brother," Ned finished for her.

Arya nodded slowly, a choke coming out of her throat as tears re-entered her eyes. Ned hastily shifted closer to her and wrapped her in his chest as tears drenched his cloak.

"Jon is gone!" Arya cried from his chest. "Why did he leave?"

 _Because of me._ Ned thought instantly but he said, "I don't know."

Arya gripped his cloak and looked at him, a scowl crossing her face. "It's because of mother isn't it?"

 _That is most likely a part of the reason._ Ned admitted. His wife never loved Jon like how she loved her children or even liked him like how she did Theon. It was understandable. Ned did claim Jon as his bastard. She did not like Jon since the day he carried him through the gates.

Ned forced out, "Maybe."

Arya wrinkled her nose. "She always hated Jon! She always treated him unfairly. If I was him I would run away too!"

"The matter about Jon is…complicated. Don't be too harsh on your mother. There are other problems that drove him away too."

"It's because he is not hers. And because he is a bastard." There was anger in her reply.

Ned inclined his head. "Aye, you have the right of it." Her words stuck true. He didn't like how Catelyn treated Jon. She mostly ignored the boy or scolded him. But it had to be this way. If he told his wife the truth she would treat the boy like he was her own, in which it was not a good thing. Keeping appearances for disguise was gold. Though he was now reconsidering the decision about everything.

Arya slammed her hand on her bed and shouted, "It's not fair! He did not choose to be born this way. He did not choose who he wanted for a father or a mother. So why is he treated like this?"

"I do not know my little wolf. It's just the way it works in this world." Ned sighed and gently rubbed his daughter's hair.

"The world is stupid," Arya muttered bitterly. "Jon ran away and is probably dead somewhere." Her voice caught in her throat as she said those last words.

"Don't speak that way," Ned said, lightly chastening. "Jon is a smart boy and more than capable of taking care of himself." _Am I trying to reassure her or I'm trying to reassure myself?_

Arya glared up at him through her watery gaze. "But he is alone out there! He can't survive by himself! 'The lone wolf dies but the pack survives'. He is the lone wolf! He has no pack, father!"

Ned swallowed as Arya resumed her sobs in the place of his arms. For a moment he listened to her gasps and her rattled hiccups and then looked outside the small window to see snow falling to the ground.

 _Oh, Jon. Where are you?_ Ned thought with despair as the snow continued to blow.

**Jon**

(Location: Vessel)

He cannot expel the sickness that thickened in his stomach and neither can he banish the waves that crashed against the hull of the ship. _My stomach and the sea do not agree_ _with me._ Jon thought in twisted dry humor before feeling another urgency to throw up all his bile he had been reigning in for the past few weeks. He tightly covered his mouth and swallowed deeply until the unpleasant sensation-that harassed him for the entire travel-retreated to the depths of his insides.

Looking at everything around him, the people who were underneath the deck seemed to be just as miserable as he. Men and women alike sang soothing songs to their wailing babies to no avail. Their cries were in tune with the cracking thunder as the juxtaposition was proven to be true. A few people vomited in their personal barrel as it was full from the bottom to the top with puke. Jon's throat tingled with nausea and he had to look away.

"It's a shitty day for a shitty vessel," Was the dry comment from the bunk beside him. The man lay on his with his hands behind his neck as he stared upwards, just seeing but not the intent.

His name was Bronn. The man told him that when they first settled into this vessel. He was crude, impudent, and says many curses that the septa back in Winterfell would faint from horror. But Jon had no one to talk to, and so he responded.

"How so?" Jon asked, turning in his bunk to face him. At his feet was where Ghost slept. The direwolf made no sound even during the raised voices.

Bronn snorted and grandly swept his arms to the view of their neighbors. "Just look for yourself, and tell me how this isn't shitty."

Jon did not look. "Do you always have a complaint about everything?"

"No. Not really," Bronn casually said. "I save the ones that needed to be said for the good of the others. You will be agreeing with me if some of that dirty vomit touches you."

Jon glanced to the side to see barrels being tipped dangerously as the ship crested another wave. Some grabbed hold of their barrels while others merely let it spill to the floor. None spared a glance at the leaking bile and neither did Jon but he did keep an eye out if it gets too close.

"I'll keep that in mind," Jon said.

Bronn hummed and glanced at him. "You know, I never caught your name, boy."

"Jon Snow."

"Snow…" Bronn thoughtfully murmured to herself. "What's a northern bastard traveling to Essos for?" He asked.

Jon clenched his hands at being called such. Bronn saw this and chuckled. "Why are you getting all cranky for? Is it because I called you a bastard?"

He just stared at him. Bronne laughed and said, "If you're getting so offended now, imagine stepping on Essos. You are going to get your ass eaten up. Trust me on this, bastard."

 _He's right._ Jon grudgingly admitted. He was entering unknown territory with nothing but the clothes on his back and the meager supplies he had brought with him, he has to be better. If he wanted to make a name for himself and to survive more than a few moons, he has to have more control if someone calls him a bastard.

"What's a young lad like you going to do in Essos?" Bronn asked after he made his point through.

"Join the ranks of the Golden Company," Jon said. He had been pondering on this for a great deal while he has been traveling to White Harbor and after when he secured passage on a vessel. The Golden Company was acknowledged as the finest Sellsword Company in many cities. They were occupied by exiles and other low-born folks like him. _What's a better way to improve than being with the best?_

Bronn laughed at him again and Jon was starting to get irritated. "What do you find amusing?" Jon demanded.

The man stopped his laughter to answer. "Aren't you a bit young to sign for them?" Bronn eyed him up and down.

"Are you questioning my sword arm?" Jon asked, more than a little offended. He tweaked and polished his swords play for all of his life. When he was in the courtyard with a sword in his hands, he became another person. Jon took it seriously and was hurt that somebody spat dirt on his talent.

"No. I question your balls." Bronn's face was rid of its teasing and seriousness replaced it. "Joining the Golden Company is not going to be as you thought it will be. You don't look like a man preparing for battle but a green boy who is too frightened to take a life."

"I am ready. I'm not afraid," Jon said with most of his rigidness clear in his voice. "I know what I'm heading in to."

"No, you don't." Bronn shook his head. "You don't know what's in store for you in that company. There are going to be nights where you will get no sleep and wondering if you survive to get your meal the next day. You will be sweaty and exhausted like hell in their golden armor of theirs and will be unable to take it off for days. You will be forced to kill, and sometimes you have to kill the people you know are innocent. The battle is going to be an entirely different scenario."

"Whatever training that you had will not make you qualified for this. There will be actual fighting and there will be death. You'll be terrified and for a good reason. There are always men that piss themselves before the battle commences."

Jon paused to process what Bronn said. He was shaken. The man's words painted a different portrayal in his mind. From the way the words were said, the man had some experience being in a Sellswords company himself.

He clenched his jaw hard and shook his head just as hard. This is going to be his path, his journey. He was tired of people telling him what or not to do. He had enough of that in Winterfell. He was the man of his own destiny and he will prove the world that bastards have worth just like the highborn does.

 _I'm not turning away._ Jon thought with determination. He looked at Bronn with steel in his eyes. "You have my thanks for telling me this…information. But this is what's best for me now."

"Don't say that I didn't tell you so. If you aren't already dead that is," Bronn scoffed.

"I'm not going to die. You know what? If I ever meet you again I will prove my point."

"You don't know that," Bronn sharply countered. "You are signing for war, boy. There is a chance that you will die before even slaying a single man in combat.

Jon shook his head and Bronn sighed again.

Bronn asked, "Why are you even leaving the north? From what I heard the northerners are not typically fond of leaving their frozen lands."

"The north is not just frozen lands," Jon defended. Bronn snorted. "And I had to leave," He said those words softly.

"Why did you have to leave?" Bronn asked, curious.

 _For a lot of things._ Jon thought. This was the same question he has been asking himself ever since he was assigned to a bunk on this vessel. But the answer never disappointed into emerging when he thought he lacked the justification. He was a bastard. He was an outsider. Catelyn has a suspicion that he plotted to take his cousin's inheritance because the south viewed base-born folks like him as evil and vile creatures. And if he had stayed, his father's relationship with his wife would continue to spoil. Jon has no intention to tarnish his family. He couldn't stay.

"That's between me and the gods," Jon said.

"Whatever you say, bastard." Bronn looked away and placed his hands behind his head and started whistling an unfamiliar tune.

XXX

(Location: Myr)

Jon slugged his baggage over his shoulders as he walked through the thin hued grass. The sun blazed down at him and he sighed. _Why is it so bloody hot?_ He was not from here; he was from the north where the cold was almost a part of him. The cold has been with him for so long that experiencing a different weather first hand had him disorientated from the heat. Next, to him, Ghost prowled without a word.

_I have to get used to it._

When Jon arrived at Braavos, the first he had done was to ask where the Golden Company's camp was stationed. To his relief and to his ire, the camp was located around the city of Myr. And that meant he had to board another ship to endure another round of days feeling pathetic and he even vomited on himself along the way.

 _But now I'm here._ Jon thought as he smiled. A steep hill lay in his wake and he climbed through the soreness of his legs and stopped at the top. He breathed the fresh air and looked down.

The Golden Company's camp was enormous and, unsurprisingly, it was organized. The gold tents were lined up in rows and it stretched down the land that his eyes cannot see. To his left was a large field where he supposed was the place to spar and practice. Jon's eyes widen as Elephants were led by men with long ropes. The animals were strong and muscled as it lumbered side-by-side with their human counterparts. One of those Elephants barked a trumpet through its trunk as it was raised in the air.

Jon stared at the gorgeous animals before he snapped out of it and slid down the hill. He brushed himself free of the dirt and the stray grass and approached the camp. He was near the first of the tents when two sentries, wearing a full set of golden armor, strode to him.

"What brings you here?" One of the sentries demanded, grabbing the sword that was in his sheath but not drawing it. The two of them eyed Ghost warily.

Jon straightened his back and said, "I'm a recruit."

They looked at each other. Instead of laughing at him like how Bronn did, the one who spoke to him walked off into the camp. Realizing what he was doing, Jon followed him at a respective distance.

Men with hard expressions watched him as he and the guard passed. Some were outside of their tent cleaning their armor, and others were sharpening their swords, but they all watched him. Their gazes felt critical, almost like there are judging him as if he was not ready to be a recruit. I'm ready.

Jon breathed in and out before holding his head high as he followed the sentry. They passed three tents before stopping in front of another one. Jon ceased walking as he stared at the ring of pikes that surrounded the tent. The Golden-dipped skulls on top of the pikes seemed to stare right into his soul, even when it lacked the eyeballs to do so. It was unnerving. The rumors about the skulls are true. Jon thought as he examined the artwork. He heard that they decorated the skulls of previous leaders and set them on pikes. Jon didn't believe it back then, but now he did.

The sentry stepped to the side and swept his hand to the tent. "In there is the captain-general and where you will sign." Without waiting for a response he walked back to where they came.

Jon gripped his baggage tightly and calmed his breathing and entered the tent. In the tent were a couple of chairs and a table in the center. A tall man, blond and wearing fine armor, stood from the table with his hands crossed behind his back. Ghost took his time to settle in the corner.

"Welcome," Harry said smoothly, his accent strong. "By my reckoning, you wish to join my company?"

Jon forced a nod and Harry said no more. The captain-general merely pointed at the contract on the table and the quill and stood on his feet silently. Jon pulled up a comfortable chair and looked at the paper on the table, his purple eyes zipping through the information. If he signed, he will be in the service for two years at maximum. After those two years were done he had a choice to leave or sign for another couple of years.

 _This is acceptable._ Jon decided to himself as he grabbed the quill and dipped it in some ink. He placed the quill over the place where he should put his name but he paused, his arm hovering but not touching the paper.

If he signed this, he will be in close proximity with those that are killers. Not just killers, but killers who take pleasure into taking life. But he will be welcomed. He always wanted to be welcomed without having to shy away from mocking stares or the glares from Lady Stark.

Thinking of Lady Stark made him muse over his siblings back in the north. _What will they think about me leaving? Will they care or would they rejoice that I'm finally gone?_

Arya's teary face flashed in his mind. His hand that gripped the quill tightened, still, his hand stayed where it was.

 _Do I want to make a name for myself or go back being the bastard of Winterfell that will inherit not a damn thing?_ He then thought of the slights that he was given for all his life. He thought about Theon's hurtful jests. He thought about the anger and contempt in the eyes of the northern lords that thought he was a living symbol that brought shame to the great and honorable Eddard Stark. He thought about how Sansa was so distant with him, feeling that she was slowly moving from his reach as time gradually passed. It was painful and heart wrenching thinking about this, but he has to. He needed the motivation to leave his household that he had been living in for years or else his plan would blow up in a cloud of dust and he will be reduced to nothing but ashes.

With a flick of his wrist, the name was signed.

"Good," Harry said. He picked up the contract and narrowed his eyes. "You're from the north," He stated.

"Aye." _Is this a problem?_ Jon hoped not. But his hopes were being chipped away piece by piece as Harry looked at him with a new eye.

Harry dropped the contract on the table and watched him. The captain-general sat in his seat without taking his eyes off him. "You are the bastard son of Eddard Stark."

Jon stiffened. _How did he know?_ "I am." Those words were hard to say.

"The warden of the north is turning every hovel and every rock on their sides in the north looking for you."

 _He's searching for me?_ A flicker of warmth filled his heart before he turned it away with a faint whisper. Jon didn't want his father looking for him. He wanted to be away, being his own man for once. It has to be this way.

"Are you going to send me back to the north?" Jon asked casually.

Harry rubbed his jaw before he shook his head. "No. You traveled all away from the north just to be a part of this company, to be part of our cause. At this moment, you are going to find your own tent and your own armor in this camp."

Jon let out a quick breath of relief. He stood up, grabbed his baggage and walked to the entrance of the tent.

"What's beneath the gold?" Harry called out, stopping his walk.

Jon paused. He licked his lips and replied in a strong voice, "The bitter steel."

He can imagine the captain-general nodding as he left the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Let me know what you think! :)


	3. Chapter 3

_The heating sun blasted in the distance. Sun rays reflected on the surface of the dry plains. Normally green grasses changed into dark orange as the sun sets. The clashing of swords rippled in the air._

_The city of Qarth burned in chaos. The street folks screamed as they moved from the scrimmages that disturbed one of the greatest porting cities in Essos. Fire and smoke burned the eyes of the street folks. People pushed and trampled on each other to escape annihilation. Buildings that were previously colorful and vibrant dulled in tone as destruction spread through Qarth._

_Howls and the famous cry's of the Dothraki shattered the spirit and heart of the men protecting the city. The great horse lord, Khal Drago, assembled the greatest khalasar that's ever been recorded in history. The head of the khalasar promised blood and glory to those who fought for him and did what many horse riders feared to do: travel through the desert region of the Red Waste. And to pillage and slave rich cities that they come upon, including Qarth._

_The ground quaked. Horses heaved past the fallen east gate. Dothraki screamers rushed to battle, overhyped at the chance to paint their arakh's in blood._

_Qarth was informed of the upcoming attack weeks in advance, however, the lords were overconfident. They held to believe that the high thick walls were enough to hold the horde at bay while help arrived. A lone Dothraki scaled the great surface of the wall because the security was so lax, he was able to cut the throats of the guards and opened the gates. And now… the people in this city were paying for it dearly. The force of this khalasar is humongous; not everyone can fit in the city, so a dozen thousand savages solemnly stood outside the gates. They were unhappy at the notion of standing idle while the others feasted._

_Soldiers slashed and parried. For every Dothraki that fell the opposite side loss four. Blood, shit, and tears flooded on the walls. Fragile towers crumbled and crushed many, sending dust and dirt flying into unprotected eyes._

_The army of Qarth broke down. Some dropped their hands and flee. Mew weeps for mercy. Many lay on the ground desperately grasping fatal wounds. The dark-skinned warriors roared in triumph. Casting their superiority, they ran into buildings and tall towers and flat out forced themselves on the women and killed the innocent who couldn't arm a sword. When this appeared to continue, a rumbling could be heard, the rumbling of elephants._

_The Golden Company arrived at last._

_The mercenaries force clashed with the surprised Dothraki. Ranks and formations were forgotten. The elephant cavalry collided with wicked impact, throwing them off their horses to land dead on the light orange rocks and short grasses. The large muscled animals dipped their gray heads to impale several Dothrakis straight through their chest._

_Jon ducked under a swipe that was aimed for his head and slit the throat of his attacker. He was in his zone, and blood lust flowed in his veins. The sword in his hands constantly slashed. He cut another person down and another and another._

_Two strong looking Dothrakis approached him, waving their curved shaped weapons in his direction angrily. The bigger one strikes first. Jon shifted to his left. The Dothraki made his mistake in overextending his arm and Jon swiftly thrust towards his stomach. The man yelled in agony and fell to the ground. Jon wheeled around to meet the sword of the other in the contest of strength._

_Jon purposely lost. He used the momentum against the older man; the Dothraki stumbled to the dirt and Jon stabbed him in the neck. The dark-skinned warrior gurgled on his own blood and stilled lifelessly on the grass._

_A volley of arrows launched in the air and the barrages of death rained on the great horde. The company pushed onwards, and the battle slowly relocated into the city. The Dothraki's choice of weapon and equipment hurt them. Curved swords made it difficult to pierce armor. The golden plates of the hired sellswords were up to standard. On the other hand, most horse riders wore light tunics, and they were being sliced around like paper._

_The battle has been going on for hours; Jon didn't consider this. His biceps maintained intensity as his long sword ached for the flesh, and his blood pumped; he was not slowing down what's so ever._

_Whilst he engaged in combat, Jon noticed a rider who swung two arakhs in deadly efficiency. The man was bare chest as he took off someone's head clean off the shoulders. What gave him away was the long braid that hung to his back like a lion's mane. Dothraki only cut their hair when they were defeated in battle. Indicated by the length, it looked like he never tasted defeat. The man unmistakably is Khal Drogo._

_Jon ended the short duel by removing the person's arm. He finished it with a low blow that carved off his right leg. He let the Dothraki suffer from his appendage lost. Jon pried a spear off the ground from a dead man's hands. He tightened his face in concentration as he tracked Drogo's progress amid the traffic as he angled the sharp spear with his eyes. Jon threw the spear with all his might. It was off target. Instead of hitting the heart, it nicked his shoulder instead._

_This took the Khal by surprise as his body shifted at the blow. Unbalanced, the stallion toppled into the dirt. Drago rolled to his feet looking enraged as the vein in his temple busted against his skin, grass and dirt were spread on his body. He whipped his head back in forth for the person who dealt with this insult. Furious brown eyes landed on Jon, who still had his arm outstretched. Snarling, he hollered as he marched to his way._

_Jon undeterred at his rage leaped with his sword raised. Lightning quick, he slashed to Drogos mid-section. It was slapped away, Drago brought his two arakhs together in Jon's face, and it connected with his face, a hairs breath away from his eye. Jon took several steps back, blood trailed down to his pupil, and making it hazy. To avoid the sting, he closed his left eye so the blood won't leak in there._

_Drago laughed cruelly and twirled his swords together as he jumped at Jon. The young recruit blocked his swing and elbowed him in the face. The Khal barley flinched, and he returned the blow with a backhand that sent Jon reeling._

_With only one eye to see, Jon growled and met him in the battle one more. Drago was taller and bigger, while Jon was quicker and shifty, evident by this, the deadly dance went on with neither giving ground._

_Jon hit Drago in the nose with the hilt of the sword. The head of the Dothraki yelled in frustration and high kicked Jon in the chest of his armor. Jon landed on the ground with a heap. His armor was dented in the core pieces of his plate, and a dark bruise forming on his eye. Drago breathed in deeply, winded by the intense exchange of death. His nostrils bled while marks and gashes lay on his chest. One nasty wound blistered beneath his nipple._

_Drago used his arakh as a cane; he leaned heavily on it for a second to bring his breathing back under control. He straightened up and walked towards the unmoving form of Jon, intent to kill off the annoyance._

_He raised his weapon high over his head and stopped, a rasping sound blurted out. It was his own. Drago coughed a big ball formed with saliva and blood. Jon twisted his long sword in the Khal's chest, a dangerous look in his lilac eyes._

_"You didn't see that coming did you?" he asked mockingly. The clashing of swords lowered in pitch as the Dothraki dwindled out._

_Drago groaned, and Jon's lips curled in disdain. He abruptly pulled his sword making Drago gasp and brought it down with a swoosh. Haunting purple eyes was the last thing the leader of the khalasar seen before his head was beheaded. Drago's head rolled to the side, unseeing brown eyes gazing at Jon._

_The battle-worn man grabbed the head by its braid before getting on a horse and holding the head up for everyone can see. The fighting stopped; shocked and horrified eyes stared at the gruesome bloody head of Drago. The Dothraki shouted in anger and anguish at the sight. Several curses reached Jon's ears as all of the savages dropped their swords and knelt in surrender._

_They tried to surrender._

_The Golden Company showed no mercy. Dying screams and wails joined the cheers of the folks that hidden behind crumbling structures. It was loud. The sound of screams echoed throughout the enormous city of Qarth._

_Soldiers and citizens all alike patted Jon on the back, shoulder, and arms. Compliments mixed in with others, and it slightly hurt his eardrums. Jon showed no reaction to this praises._

_His eyes traveled to see a horse's brutalized head stitched on Drogo's body as it was tied; the body was paraded down the roads, cheers trembling the very earth._

_Jon silently looked at the countless bodies that piled up. His indigo gaze expressing something akin to sadness as he viewed the carnage._

_He then frowned, and the sadness in his eyes gone like it never was there. A cold indifferent look settling in._

299 AC

Jon walked through the busy roads of Braavos, and there no falter in his steps. The screeching of the women and the scolding of the men was an everyday occurrence. It was almost a routine. The sweat familiar smell of fresh fish and oysters leaked about, though, Jon is not in the mood to eat. Not today, the demons of his past were too near. A drink will do. It always does.

Jon entered an old looking inn; he usually comes in this Inn to think. Or put it more realistically, to brood. As he stepped in, he sniffed the air. Sweat and the good old ale instantly rose. Jon smiled softly.

He found a quiet corner. He sat down contently while he waited for a maid to come to take his order. Young beauty in a simple white dress approached.

The maid blushed shyly and said, "Can I take your order."

Jon ordered a pie and ale. The maid promised she will return with the food and left him alone in hast, and she was still blushing. Jon smirked. He knew he was handsome. He is not the 14-year-old boy that left Winterfell, utterly clueless with women. He finally understood the stares Jeyne Poole and multiple girls gave him, and he finally understood Theon's obsession with females.

Jon ranked his eyes on the retreating maid, debating should he take action. He then shrugged. He will wait and see what happens in the meantime.

…

_A crying man kneeled in front of Jon. He bowed his grayed head. "Please! Not my boy!" He sobbed._

_Jon overlooked the man and drew his sword. His eyes were fixed on the bleeding man that rested on the carpeted floor. The young man couldn't move, so he instead looked sadly at his would be executer._

_"Do it."_

_Jon peeked over his shoulder to his superior. The stoned face man thinned his lips. "He set the prisoner escape. He knows the consequences of his actions, and he still let the cunt go anyway."_

_The traitor spoke up, "It was the right thing to do! The man was not guilty!"_

_"That's not for you to decide!" The commander sharply replied. He looked at Jon. "Do it!" he stated again._

_Jon nodded. He freed his boot from the clutch of the old man and reached the traitor._

_The young man glared in spite. "Go on, do it snow!" He egged the bastard on. "I thought you were different from the rest. I guess I was wrong." He then lowered his head, anticipating the fatal blow._

Jon gazed at his cup; the plate lay on the table half eaten as he mused to himself. He picked up his hard gaze. The inn was peaceful, and everybody kept a distance between them and Jon. Wary eyes peeled on him. All the people in Essos heard of him, and what he is capable of, and what he did.

Jon tipped the mug to his mouth and gulped and gulped…and gulped. He isn't proud of what he did in the Golden Company. Some were good, like killing the barbarian Drogo, while many were bad and horrible.

Jon slammed the cup on the table, making folks yelp. More eyes peered at his direction. Jon twitched his nose and glared, and people hastily turned back to what they were doing to not piss off the broody man even more. Jon snorted in the mug as he took another sip. He picked up a fork and ate a piece of the pie.

Jon shook his head in regret. For years, he thought to join the Golden Company is an honorable service. _it's just sellswords lying, and cheating for money and get the chance to_ _murder more people._ Jon thought bitterly. By the time he came to this realization, it was too late and the damaged has been done. It was the thing he craved most, to have a name and be more than a bastard and to be known. B _ut not like that._ Jon shook his head grimly.

 _I should have never left Winterfell._ He couldn't go back now because he would just be an obstacle, and he didn't want to interfere with the Stark family any more than he already had.

"Your reputation precedes you," A voice said out of nowhere.

Jon frowned as he looked up. Nobody stood in front of the table. The nearest person was 10 feet away from him and was safely out of his range.

"I am down here."

Jon frowned even harder. He slouched his shoulder as he peered under the table. Underneath, a short man stared at him. The man was a dwarf. The four foot-five man wore a gold and red silky expensive garment. His Mismatch eyes held intelligence, and he held himself proudly despite his stunted height.

"May I sit here?" The man asked. Jon nodded his head and squared his shoulders as he sat back in his seat. The proud but short man climbed an empty chair and sat down. The dwarf took Jon's cup and sipped it with zeal. Jon stared because he was surprised. No man would have the courage to do that, and it piqued his interest.

The man set down the mug. He wiped the corner of his mouth and gazed at Jon. "Well if it isn't the great Jon snow!" he said exclaimed cheerily.

Jon watched him patiently across the table. "That's me," He replied calmly.

The man smiled. "It's incredible for a northern bastard like yourself to rise through the ranks of the Golden company. What an achievement!" he made the show of clapping his hands.

The dwarf face turned grim. "Ned stark searched the whole north for you. You have been searched for years."

Jon shrugged and stared at him suspiciously. "What do you want," He asked bluntly.

"Come on, we were just having this nice conversation. Don't be hasty," The short man scolded him jokingly.

Jon inspected the stranger. Puzzles coming in place as he connected the dots in his head. The rich clothing, the swagger, the mixture of blonde and black hair, and green and black mismatched eyes and his out of place height.

"You are Tyrion Lannister," Jon spoke with tightness in his voice.

"Correct," Tyrion replied.

"What's a Lannister doing in Essos?"

"I could ask you the same thing Snow," Tyrion returned evasively. He tapped his fingers on the wooden table as he whistled a catchy tune.

Jon scowled. "This is the last time I'm going to ask you, what do you want?" he demanded.

Tyrion chuckled at his impatience, and then met Jon's eyes. "I need help."

Jon shook his head. "If help is what you seek, you came to the wrong guy."

Tyrion dismissed this, and he leaned forward on the table. "No, I believe that the right guy is seating right in front of me."

"How?" Jon asked skeptically.

"Because Snow, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain." The imp said wisely, switching the words to his own image.

Jon grew silent. Tyrion went on. "I overheard the talks about you, Snow. You're a great warrior and a creative strategist. At the age of 16, you became a commander of a group of sellswords. Do you know how magnificent that is?"

"And you set the example of a man with a guilty conscience, you reek of it," Tyrion continued. "I know exactly a way for you to forget, a journey," The half man finished grandly.

"A journey?" Jon repeated confusedly.

Tyrion ordered a maid to for a cup of ale before looking back at Jon. "Essos houses many experienced men who know the waters well. They know how to sail, and I want you to join." He explained.

Jon nodded in understanding. He came across many sailors that knew the seas like the back of their hands. They practically lived with their ships and boats.

"Where are you heading to?" Jon asked curiously, wondering what destination the dwarf was aiming for.

An odd look flashed on Tyrion's face. "Do you want to travel with me to the old city of Valyria?" He asked like it didn't hold much merit.

The very name of the ruined city stunned Jon into a stupor silence. Nobody chatted about the city where the doom took place. whenever it is mentioned, it was in whispers. The civilization of Valyria at the time was the greatest empire that existed. Dragon riders once flew high above in the skies, wings beating rapidly as they roared in the air. The city prospered for thousands of years until it was gone. The Citadel never knew what the doom happen or what it was. All they knew was that the once great society blew out; all it left was crumbling buildings with carvings of fire. Not one person traveled to the sight and came back. They never heard from again. And this Lannister suggested bringing a crew while kings brought thousands.

"You are mad!" Jon hissed in a low whisper. They already gathered attention. Folks gazed at the dwarf, amazed that he was talking to Jon snow for this long when everybody else failed.

Tyrion smirked at him "Sometimes, mad people are the ones who were brave enough to seek adventure while others acted like pussies."

Jon glared at him. A gentle tingle warmed his neck, a soothing presence was felt. Suddenly they were gasps and screams in the inn. A white colored wolf, big as a small horse, padded in the room. People parted for it, scared of the bloody red eyes. Ghost reached Jon, and he was large enough to lick his owners face. Chuckling, Jon patted the still growing direwolf. The predator howled in joy and rested by Jon's feet.

Instead of fear, Tyrion gazed at the wolf in fascination. "The rumors are true, you have a direwolf," He said amazed.

Jon smiled warmly at his buddy. "I had him since he was a pup. His mother birthed five others back at Winterfell." He rubbed Ghost fur as he thought on the day the Starks found the pregnant wolf while on a hunting trip.

Jon tore his eyes off Ghost and looked at the shocked Tyrion. "What are you trying to achieve by going to that fucking place?" He asked seriously.

Tyrion sighed as he rocked his chair in a pattern. "Why did you leave Winterfell? Why did you leave Westeros?"

Jon knit his eyebrows at the sudden change of subject but answered, "To earn glory." He proceeded to examine the short man. "Is that what you want, glory?"

Tyrion just shook his head. "I want many things, desire many things, but the most important thing I want is to find my uncle, Gerion Lannister," He said softly. Jon's eyes softened. It reminded of him trying to find his mother identify, and the similarities panged his heart. The decision became crystal clear to the bastard.

"I will help you." Jon watched Tyrion smile gratefully at him. "After this is finished, my pockets should be overflowing with gold, do you hear me?"

Tyrion stood up and pushed his chair to the table. He briefly caught Jon's purple gaze. "A Lannister always pays his debts." He said as he left the inn, leaving Jon to muse on what he just agreed to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Robb Stark**

"Father…smith…warrior…mother…maiden…crow…stranger. I'm his/hers…as he's/she's mine. From this day…till the end of my days." Two voices renounced in a union.

Robb gazed with love at blue-grey eyes. Alys karstark smiled shyly at him while a heavy blush smeared against her pale cheeks. _Or rather, Alys stark._ He was still in a trance in his wife's eyes as he leaned for the kiss to seal the deal. Chapped lips met together as one while whistles blew.

The wedding was commenced in the Godswood. Ned had suggested it was only fitting for a stark to marry in front of the wierwood tree, as it is per custom.

Robb held Alys around the mid-section and waved at the common folk and the lords who were fit enough to travel to Winterfell for the occasion. Snow fell gently to the ground, and long tables that were set up were covered in the process. Automatically, Robb's eyes searched for a certain wild-haired broody. When he didn't see one he mentally wept. _If_ _only he was here,_ Robb thought sadly. but he wasn't. He hasn't been for a very long time.

Great Jon lumbered from his seat and raised his goblet."This is great an all, but my lords…it's time to bed them!" He bellowed in a strong tongue. A collective of cheers agreed as men and women marched their way to the newly wedded couple.

Ned stark stood up, ceasing the legs of many as they stared at him respectively. The Stark let the silence to linger before speaking, "Do not be so urgent lord Umber." Flustering, great Jon lowered his eyes. Ned then smiled sheepishly. "I am your liege lord, so I get to say the words…let us bed them!" He shouted.

The men and women laughed at his way of humor, glad to have a great and honorable warden like Eddard Stark. The folks then continued their way to Robb and the new family member of house stark.

Robb was lifted off the ground by a cluster of blushing women whilst Alys was carried by a group of men. _Jon would want me to be happy, not to be sad on my wedding day._ Ron thought to himself. The party passed the smiling faces of Ned Stark and Catelyn. They made their trip inside the castle, footprints fading in the snow in their wake.

**Aegon Targaryen**

The prince of the seven kingdoms clashed swords with ser Arthur Dayne; the greatest knight the realm seen in decades. His sisters cheered him on as his silver-blond hair whipped across his defined shaped face. Aegon fell for a feint and before he knew it, he was lying on the ground gasping for oxygen. On the balcony, the yells of inspiration dimmed as the women of house Targaryen slightly moaned in disappointment.

Arthur walked over to him, holding a single hand for assistance. Aegon clasped the hand and stood up wincing as he did so. The prince glowered at the king's guard."I thought I had you this time."

"Don't worry my prince," Arthur replied sympathetically."When I am old and grey then you could possibly hope to defeat me," He said amusingly whilst clapping his hand on Aegon's shoulders.

The son of Rhaegar scowled, annoyed at the streak of losing to this knight would continue, even if the man was the best sword in the land minis ser Barristan.

Daenerys smiled at him as she leaned over the rail. "its okay egg!" she called out."You will beat him someday!"

Next, to her, Rhaenys scoffed in disbelief. Aegon shrugged off Arthurs' hands and took the offered flask filled with fresh water from a servant at waiting. As he drank the refreshment, his silver-blond hair shined. The future king of Westeros was a grown man at nine and ten. He was tall and elegant like his lord father. He had a nice formed jawline, with his bright hair reaching the back of his neck. His skin was slightly toned from the blood of his mother; Elia Martell. Lastly, he also supported the indigo eyes of the ancient blood Valyria. While Aegon and Daenerys look the part of the famed Targaryen's, the eldest of Rhaegar took the part of the Dornish of old. She had curly brown hair that reached her spine, her skin tone was even deeper than Aegon's, and she had the same soft brown eyes of the queen of Westeros.

"Not in a million years," Rhaenys said dismissively.

Aegon snorted. "Thanks for the support dear sister of mine," He replied sarcastically.

A short man walked into the training grounds, he stopped and bowed before Aegon."Excuse me, my prince, the king summoned your presence in the council room," He said and he left.

The Targaryens and Arthur barely blinked an eyelash. They knew what Ageon was summoned for because it was normal. Aegon nodded at his family and left the training grounds with Arthur on his heels.

...

"The war across the narrow sea has ended," Varys, the master of whispers said. "The city of Lys managed to reach a settlement with the Tyrosh. They agreed to an alliance and to share the undisputed lands." The spymaster went silent.

Rhaegar nodded and looked to the hand. Jon Connington spoke up. "My king, the repairs to Harrenhall has begun. Thousands volunteered to help bring back the castle to its former glory." He explained.

"Excellent," Rhaegar replied in a soft but firm voice.

Aegon sat at the long table; the table held the small ring of men who helped to secure the stability of the realm. King Rhaegar seated at the head of the table, and Jon sat to his right. Varys was in the middle. Petyr Balish, the master of coin sat next to Ageon. The grand maester Pycelle was spending this time nodding off, and finally, there was Paxter Redwyne, the master of ships.

Rhaegar quietly observed Pycelle, an emotionless face expression in work. With a grin, Balish tapped the old man on the shoulder, and Pycelle woke up so swiftly the sound of a bone cracking rippled through the room.

"Maybe you should retire grand maester," Rhaegar suggested mildly. It was clear to anyone that it was an order.

Pycelle appeared to protest when he took in the warning in the king's eyes. "Yes, of course, your grace," The old man murmured while bowing. He soon left.

Ageon watched the session of the council developed. For the past couple of years, Rhaegar took it himself to teach Ageon how to deal with issues that frequently occur in Westeros. And so the prince was summoned to every meeting that was held.

Instead of paying attention to the discussion that he would usually hear with rapt focus, Ageon peered at his father. Lords and such knew Rhaegar was a fair and just king; however, it was common knowledge in the red keep that the ruler of the andals was open to pouts of melancholic. Ageon knew the reason, and the whole family knew. It was by the death of his wolf and its stillborn child. Ageon grew grim at the thought of the sibling he could have had; a sibling that would've been raised beside him with Rhaenys. The prince turned his gaze from his father's sad lilac eyes and returned back to the session to be prepared to rule in Rhaegars name.

**Jon Snow**

_"Where did you hear this from?" Jon asked._

_The young man grinned at him, very drunk with rich wine. "My father of course! I wasn't supposed to tell, but oops?" The man yelled obnoxiously before spilling the whole content of liquid on his face. It was the wine Jon had purposely offered. This man in question is the very son of Harry Strickland, the man at the head of the Golden company._

_The only thing Jon had to do was to swish up some drinks there and there and James Strickland is ready to talk. Harry is a fool to spill his secrets to his buffoon of a son, and it was a very large error. An error Jon is going to exploit._

_Jon had an excited glint in his purple eyes. "So, where is this Blackfyre?"_

Jon awoke to the warm body of Ghost. The white direwolf snored as he propped against Jon's side, unaware of the state of his owner.

Jon clutched at his chest-where the brutal scar lingered. The bastard sat up and removed his light brown vest over his head, and the gruesome mark still haunts his body. That particular scar loomed out from the rest. The large scab covered where the vicious wound used to blister, but it tracked from his nipple to his waist and it dulled to a dark brown color from time.

One day, Jon was arranging to leave the services of the company when he caught the mention of a lost Valyrian sword that hasn't been seen in centuries. The sword was Blackfyre. James was boasting to a lower rank officer that the sword was hidden somewhere in the headquarters and had seen it up-close. Of course, Jon pretended to be civil with the arrogant warrior and offered the Strickland a free wine to loosen his tongue. Afterward, Jon personally handpicked his most loyal combatants and planned to infiltrate the base to claim the sword. It didn't work out all. Obviously, someone from the group blabbed their treachery to the commanders to increase their ranks in the mercenaries. They were suddenly attacked at the hour of the wolf. Every participant in Jon's plan was killed. Jon barely escaped with his life, but not before a nasty axe glanced his chest. And to this day, Jon didn't know who spilled the beans. Since then, a bounty of 100 thousand dragons was on his head. _Someone after time tried to accomplish the deed, but they are all dead._ Jon thought grimly.

Jon slowly caressed his scar that hung around his sharpened muscular abs from the years wasted fighting in multiple wars-short wars, but still battles among the free cities. Each one washed his innocence away down the drain. Rather than feeling impulse at the view, he felt glad. It constantly reminded him of his past failures and his weaknesses. It taught Jon the importance of overcoming those mistakes and to guarantee it won't happen again. Jon touched the scar by his eye that he received from Khal Drogo. _Not again._

A knock came from behind the door. "Come in," Jon called, not caring about his exposed chest. Ghost lifted his head but did not utter a sound. His intelligent eyes were peeled on the door with intentness in case of danger. A young man around Jon's age entered. The man halted as he stared at Jon's chest that was coated with numerous scars.

Jon waited patiently through the staring. There was a time when he did care what people thought about him, but he did not care any longer. That boat had long since sailed.

The man realized he was being rude and shook his head. "Tyrion wishes to speak with you in his chamber." After Jon nodded, the man backed out of the room and closed the door.

…

Jon walked beside Ghost as they strolled to Tyrion's chamber on the ship. The men that agreed to join the dwarf's expedition to explore the old city of Valyria stepped back in fear of the huge wolf that prowled alongside the bastard. The men Tyrion recruited were all hardened men who seen battle, but all the same, they cowered before the direwolf with panic.

Jon barged in the imp's room without bothering to knock. Tyrion only raised his eyebrows, well used to the behavior of the brooding man. "Take a seat," Tyrion proposed with a wave of his hand over the chairs in front of his study table. Jon sat down while inspecting the chamber. Bunch of thick old books that Tyrion brought with him from Casterly Rock rested in the corners of the room, and flagons of wine varying in taste crowded on the desk. Ghost marked his territory in the corner of Jon's left and curled up in a ball. His red eyes were flickering with weariness.

Jon's lips tug up in amusement. _Ghost is going to bite my ass off if this bouncing ship to ship continues._ He thought fondly.

"Wine?" Tyrion Asked loudly as he interrupted Jon's train of thought. Jon looked at him disappointingly and Tyrion chuckled as he poured a cupful of wine into a goblet. Jon grabbed the goblet and let the delicious liquid slide down his unbearably dry throat. He gasped as his mouth left the rim. _That was good!_

"What is this?" Jon said to himself as he looked amazed at the golden beverage in his tight grasp. _I never tasted something like this before._ "I know this is not from Westeros." He glanced at Tyrion.

"It's not." Tyrion nodded. "A dear friend of mine had shipped me a supply of vintage from across the Jade Sea," He said.

"I had half the mind to go there." Jon then looked at Tyrion suspiciously. "You wished to see me?" he asked.

"Yes," Tyrion confirmed, not answering any further.

"Why?" Jon asked, slightly annoyed at his short response.

Tyrion placed a hand over his heart as he looked crestfallen. "I just wanted to get to know you better, Snow." He rubbed his chest soothingly. "We are going to in each other's company for a while," He explained.

Jon scowled. "No thanks to you." He shook his head "I don't know what possessed me to agree to this suicidal attempt."

"Why did you then?" The short man asked curiously.

"Because I thought it was a good thing to do to help you find your beloved uncle," Jon replied.

Tyrion frowned and sipped his wine. "When we port in Volantis, you can leave anytime you want."

Jon shook his head, his dark curls dancing in front of his eyes. "No."

Tyrion frowned even more. "Didn't you just say that this was a bad idea?" He said confused.

"I'm not that person who goes back on their words," Jon responded.

Putting his goblet on the desk, Tyrion smiled as he clapped his hands. "You impress me, Jon Snow. Entirely different from what the lords of Westeros think of you."

Jon grew rigid and rested his cheek on his fist. "What do they say of me?" He asked, puzzled. _Why would the lords pay attention to me? A bastard of Winterfell of all people._

Tyrion chuckled and wiggled his index finger at Jon. "Don't give me that look, Snow. You're a former commander of the Golden Company. You killed a thousand men in battle, and people of Essos consider you one of the best swordsmen in the land. And remember, you are only 16. You are talked about in Westeros as you are in Essos."

Tyrion paused as he regarded him. His mismatch pupils eyeing him with an intensity that made Jon uncomfortable. "Everyone has different opinions of you, Snow. My father thinks you are a child playing at war. My dear sister thinks you're a barbarian. My brother said your reputation is overrated. The royal family thinks you're mad. Even the king has said you're a mass murder."

Tyrion continued to eye him. "All these rumors flying back in forth about you is large. Some are probably wrong, some are probably right. I guess I will never know. Part of me wants to hire you as my shield if you wanted to go back to Westeros to prove them all wrong." Tyrion dipped his head back and gulped his wine.

…

The air was hot and humid. the roads occupied with slaves and elephants were used as transportation. Many supported tattoos on their bodies or on the cheek to show if they were freemen or slaves who tired themselves to the point of death as they rushed to carry out their master's commands. Jon spied the large outlines of the Elephants being struck with long whips to navigate which way to head. The large mammals didn't roar in anger like what Jon is used to. The mighty animals were brought down to mighty slaves as they lifted people off their feet to relive them.

_They should not be used like this! They belong on the field charging into battle, not to carry the masters because they were too lazy to walk!_

This painted the image of Volantis in a bad light to Jon's eyes, but he was wise enough to not share his thoughts out loud. He didn't want to be executed just because he was incapable of keeping his mouth shut. Nonetheless, he can open his mind to the person next to him.

"I don't want to be here Tyrion," He whispered so nobody can hear them. Just in case, he leaned his head down to match the dwarf's height.

Tyrion, instead of answering, looked at the biggest bridge Jon ever seen. Hands and heads hung upon them. It was a very clear warning, no crime. Jon's stomach dropped in unease. The bounty on him was well known. For certain, if the Triarches of this city caught him, they were going to turn him into the hands of the company. Jon has no wish to lose his head just yet.

"Hmm," Tyrion hummed in response.

Anger steamed in Jon's purple eyes. "Seeing these slaves moping about doesn't bother you Lannister, but I actually give a damn," Jon hissed.

Tyrion looked up calmly in the face of Jon's fury. "We need fresh air and to stretch our legs, as well as our cocks. The crew is restless after all the weeks on that damned ship. They need this, in spite of all these 'slaves moping about'. Afterward, we can move on," Tyrion explained.

 _Damn him. He has a point. That blasted dwarf._ Jon thought with a flicker of annoyance. _And the smell…_

Tyrion sniffed the air and grimaced. "It smells like a dead whore."

Jon tried but failed to hide the grin on his face. The Lannister nodded at him. "Let's go find a brothel." Jon's grin couldn't be bigger.

…

Jon peeped a glance where Tyrion was eagerly sucking the face of a blonde on a chair. Jon could detect a little bulge in the middle of the dwarf's trousers as he slapped her ass. The prostitute squealed with glee in Tyrion's mouth. _Horny lion._ Jon snorted in his mug.

The brothel was alive with men and women displaying the show of emotion as they grasped and grappled with one another. Hands, without shame, declined to where hidden body parts lay. Prostitutes sent Jon a few suggestive hints, and it promised heat and desire without any pay. Jon paid no mind to the stares. He was not in the mood. His nerves were bad.

Everything seems to be in part, but Jon is not a fool. Four men in the back glanced at him every five seconds. It appeared that they were just casually resting their hands on the hilt of their swords. Jon saw through the act. Random twitches would disturb the hands. They were anxious.

Jon sat stiffly in his seat as the group of four marched to him. Tyrion extracted his attention from the prostitute and narrowed his eyes. The tallest and biggest of the men spoke, "Well well, if it isn't Jon snow!" he announced loudly. Eyes turned to the scene, curious to how this would play out.

Jon didn't look at the man. He fixed his eyes forward."That's me."

Tyrion spoke up, "Do we have a problem gentleman?" With a touch of a warning in his voice.

Jon answered, "Yes…we do," He said quietly. He quickly drew his sword from his scabbard and slashed across the throat of the man who was speaking a moment ago. _He can't talk any more._

By the time the first of the men had the sense to draw a sword, Jon had already turned to the second man nearest to him. Jon slapped his sword on the man's head, and he crumbled to the floor with his blood leaking out. The two men then managed to bring their swords and double-teamed Jon whilst screaming a war cry. Jon met the two's blows with ease. He dispatched one with a swipe to his private section and he was done. Jon knee went up and connected with the last man standing. While the man was recovering, Jon placed the tip of his long sword into the top of his head. The man gargled as Jon removed the weapon out of his head. Blood and brain covered the sword's length. Jon grunted and wiped the sword clean on the dead man's clothing.

The east door slammed open. Patrollers with mismatch armor plates looked around rapidly into the brothel before meeting Jon's gaze. Jon panicked, looked at Tyrion. "We have to leave…now." Tyrion nodded with speed and the two ran out the back exit.

…

The ship sailed away slowly. Jon and Tyrion, with the rest of the crew, watched in relief as the wall of Volantis decrease in size. Unfortunately, the crew that was in the city had to be left behind. Jon and Tyrion didn't have the patience or time to inform them they were leaving the ancient city earlier than expected. Now, only five people remained on the ship, as the majority of inhabits were still in Volantis, unaware of their departure.

Tyrion breathing hard looked up at Jon. "Remind me to never go in a brothel with you again, I swear, you are a beacon for trouble snow," The Lannister said hoarsely.

Jon nodded, still trying to catch his breath. The splashing waters never seemed so cold until now, and the looming presence of Old Valyria in the back of Jon's mind threatened to drown him in a storm cloud that was full of burning flames and the ominous flap of beating wings.


	5. Chapter 5

**The forgotten dragon of death.**

Nobody could ever ride him.

Nobody could ever tame him.

Many tried, and they were turned to ash.

They just left him be.

He was named one of the wild dragons

He was vicious.

People feared his wrath.

He left years ago…so long ago.

He was forgotten.

**Jon Snow**

"I heard krakens were there. big ugly fuckers," Yellow tooth said. The grey-haired man smiled, his yellow teeth prompting him for the given name.

The man next to him snorted. "You really believe in that piss?" He said in disbelief. The man's name was Joseph. He was tall and lanky with dyed green hair to boot, though he is good with an axe.

Yellow tooth shrugged. "This is Valyria we are talking about."

The five people on the ship were on deck. All of them in circle trading stories and such. The topic slowly but surely came to the dead capital of Valyria. A week had passed since the parting from Volantis. They were getting closer to where the doom transpired, and Jon could feel it in his harden bones.

As days passed, more and more fog formed. Every day, the fog builds with heightened intensity. Soon, there are going to nights where it's going to be complete darkness if there were no torches lighten. The crew hid their unease with some small talk, but Jon can see that they were nervous.

"Krakens are a myth," Joseph protested.

"I saw a Kraken once," Someone muttered a minute after.

Heads turned to see a man who wore a heavy fur cloak. The man's beard was long enough to touch his stomach and he was clearly muscled.

Gerry met their gazes. "It was a couple of years ago. My cousin and I were just sailing around the set sun sea. Just cruising, trying to catch some shellfish, nothing special." The others leaned in, captivated with the story.

"The ship suddenly rumbled, the sea was rippling. And the nastiest thing I saw in my life passed by. It was big. Its tentacles were the size of this bloody ship and the teeth are bigger than the lot of you. The Kraken didn't attack us. It just passed us by and went back under the water."

The crew stared at Gerry with shock. Tyrion shook his head and smiled. "I can detect bullshit if I ever hear one."

Gerry scowled at the imp. "I don't care what you think. I know what I saw." He looked to his hands, not meeting anyone's gaze.

"Your quiet, Snow," Yellow tooth said to prevent the silence.

Jon turned his eyes from Ghost and met Tooth's gaze. "What about it?" he replied shortly.

"What do you think about this?" The man replied as he motioned his hand to everyone and the ship.

Jon caught his meaning. "I think every single one of you is a crazy son of a bitch that needs to rethink your lives over," He said bluntly.

The only thing that broke the silence was the waters splashing against the ship. The fog is getting thicker now as the air was quiet.

"But I guess that I am a crazy son of a bitch too," Jon added with a slight grin.

The crew laughed well and hard, and even Jon granted them a full-blown smile.

**Domeric Bolton**

The heir of the Dreadfort looked down at his father on the floor as he held a sharp Dagger in his hands. Roose met his eyes with shock, and for once he finally showed emotion on that gaunt face as he held his chest. Domeric returned his stare with an indifferent one. Roose knew this was coming, yet he did nothing to stop it.

Domeric's pale blue eyes were cold."Our blades are sharp," He said simply.

Unexpectedly, Roose smiled. "Our blades are sharp," He repeated with a croaky voice. "Rule well my son." He then closed his eyes, and his body was lifeless.

"I will father," Domeric said to himself as he picked up a napkin that was on the table and cleaned his dagger. He is calm, not showing any distress or guilt at killing his father. Roose taught him the lesson when he was young after all. If he wanted to be the lord of the Dreadfort, he has to show his dagger was sharp as Bolton's motto or he would be disposed of. Fortunately, he made his father proud. Domeric didn't know what Roose would do if he refused to do the deed, but his father would probably bring his bastard brother in the equation to get rid of him. He should be gone too.

The maester, Walkan, entered the room and stopped short. Domeric turned around and examined the man, a placid expression on his face. The maester shifted on his feet and sweat formed on his forehead.

Domeric smiled cheerfully and approached the master."How are you doing Walkan?" he asked in a light voice.

Walkan stammered."Um...Ah…yes milord." His face now resembled a red tomato.

"That's good, wouldn't want something to happen to the castles maester, would I?" He said as he toyed with Walkan's chain with his dagger.

Walkan gulped. "No milord!" He said in a rush. He almost bit his tongue in the process.

"Lord Roose had an accident," Domeric whispered in Walkan's ear. He stepped back and peered at him. "What did I say?"

Walkan scrunched his face together, trying to recall because he knew his life was at stake."There was an accident."

"Who had an accident?"

"Lord Roose."

"Good." Domeric turned and looked at his father's body. "Have his body buried."

"Yes milord," Walkan said as he did his most effort to speed walk out of the room.

"Oh, and Walkan." The maester stopped and turned to look back at his new lord. "Have the men prepare for a hunt. Make sure to tell Ramsay he is going along as well."

**Ned Stark**

It is quiet.

Like it should be

Ned held the winter roses as he walked through the crypts. his face was lined with wrinkles by age and sadness.

It was dark aside from the burning torches. Ned stopped in front of a statue. The statue was a tall broad man with a thick beard with a great long sword resting carelessly on his left shoulder. The man was Brandon, his older brother. Ned swallowed the lump in his throat. Brandon died so young. _Why did you have to be so reckless brother?_ The sick image of Brandon struggling to reach for his father while the rope tightens around his neck almost crashed Ned to his knees in grief.

He can't look at him anymore. Ned went on to the next statue: Rickard Stark. _I have nothing to say._ Ned thought with anger. His father's persistence to marry Lyanna to Robert caused this whole disaster. His sister pleaded against this so much that Brandon and Benjen joined in as well, But Rickard didn't listen. Ned's mother would have been so heartbroken.

Ned finally came in front of Lyanna. He looked at her carved face and gently placed the winter roses on her opened palm. _she loved these._ He reflected tenderly.

By the old gods and new, she was wild. Lyanna was never the one to do extremely well at stitching and wearing pretty dresses. His sister used to be more comfortable in boy clothes and a sword in her hand. She was so proficient with the weapon for a woman. Ned recalled the times Lyanna would render Benjen swordless and the way she sent the two squires running like they had wildfire on their asses. Ned chuckled.

His musings drifted to his daughter Arya. His mind shifted and he set his jaw in resolve. His father may have cast Lyanna away with his demands for her to be a proper lady, but not Arya. _Not my daughter._ Ned wheeled around and hustled his way out of the crypts.

…

"Do you wish to have a sword tutor Arya?" Ned asked at the dinner table. He could have had her practice with the boys under ser Rodrik, however, it is more fitting if Arya can train by herself, unlike Lyanna who had to sneak out of lessons to even touch a wooden sword.

Arya looked up from her plate. "Yes! Thank you, father!" She provided him with a beaming smile. Ned hadn't seen Arya smile like that since Jon left.

The image of Jon brutally killing men effortlessly while his amethyst eyes glittering with glee made Ned place his hand on the table to brace himself. And he noticed some things. Bran's face was twisted with jealousy. Robb just looked amused. Rickon is confused. Theon is still eating. Sansa and Catelyn looked disapproved.

"A lady should not be running around holding swords, Ned," His wife said while frowning at him.

"And a boy shouldn't be climbing," Ned returned with his attention on his food.

Bran dropped his head in embarrassment while his siblings sniggered at him. Catelyn continued to frown at Ned. "I tried my hardest to make Arya a proper la-

"If she doesn't want to be a lady, she doesn't have to," Ned responded sternly.

Ned looked at his wife hard as she was just about to argue further. Catelyn sealed her lips when she realized she is not going to win the spar with words. She nodded stiffly and started eating again. Across the table, Arya was boasting to a sullen Bran and was rubbing it in his face with joy.

Ned grinned.

It was the right thing to do.

Lyanna would be proud.

**Jon Snow**

"Tyrion… where the hell are we?" Jon asked as he counted to 100 and back to soothe his nerves for everyone's sake.

There is nothing to be seen beyond the water. You couldn't see shit. White-grey mist is the only thing visible for miles, surrounding the carrack like a pack of hungry wolfs. The ominous mist concealed anything and it reminds Jon of a storm cloud. This morning, the crew awoke to be quickly shocked to their core. Jon didn't want to admit it, but this scared him shitless. Jon knew what this means. They couldn't see, which means they don't know where the fuck they were was going.

Jon schooled his face and looked at Tyrion. The crew nodded their heads while they stared expectedly at Tyrion, with a faint touch of fear on their faces.

Tyrion Rubbed his stubble, contemplating. "There were no records that suggested this would happen. I am surprised. I have to say that I'm clueless like the rest of you," He said warily.

The crew, except Jon, grew furious and spat accusations at the dwarf while they clutched their personal weapons tightly.

"What do you mean you're fucking clueless?!"

"God damn it, Lannister! you should know this!"

"We are going to die here!"

Yellow tooth ended this squabble by taking his dagger from his cloak. "This is your fault Lannister! I think a good way to redeem that is to cut your little dwarf's dick and stick it in your little dwarf's mouth!" He moved towards Tyrion with his blade raised.

Jon stepped in his path, protecting Tyrion from potential death. Inside, Jon is rendered speechless at the demeanor of the crew. These cunts knew where we are heading and what's at stake, but they all agreed to come along anyway. _And now they are bitching?! They seriously thought that sailing to Valyria is not going to have a setback?!_

Yellow tooth grunted. "Get out the way Snow," He ordered.

Jon wordlessly shook his head.

Yellow tooth's eyes flickered uncertainly. He debated if he can take on the famed 16-year-old and if he will come out alive which is slim.

Tyrion coughed loudly behind Jon. "I will repeat myself. I did not know this is going to happen. I am sorry."

"Saying sorry is not going to make this better imp," Joseph spat.

Tyrion nodded, but he also wore a slight grin."I know. It was the most polite thing to say in this shithole," He said half-jokingly.

The scowls intensified and Yellow tooth growled. "Shut your mouth dwarf. I hate the piss that comes spilling out your tongue."

Tyrion slightly shrugged. "If you have a father like mine, then the insults you are childishly calling doesn't have any merit on me. I'm sorry about that too."

Yellow tooth ignored this and went on. "We don't know where we are! Are we even heading to bloody Valyria?!" he shouted.

"Obviously you don't know your history," Jon spoke in a low voice, eyes peeled on something in the mist.

Eyes drifted from Tyrion to Jon. Yellow tooth glowered at the bastard. "What did you say, boy?" He demanded.

Jon tore his eyes from the fog and met the man's gaze. "Don't call me a boy again," Jon warned silently, his face placid. His hand was already on the hilt of his sword.

Tyrion hurriedly interrupted before a blood bath occurred. "What Snow mean's…" He said as he pointed outside the carrack where the waters were clapping against the hull. "Is that the waters are boiling. We are somewhere in the smoking sea," Tyrion explained grimly.

The crew gasped and went to the side of the deck to eye the waters themselves. Tyrion spoken truly, the water is boiling. Medium sized bubbles, the width, and length of a fireball blinked in and out from the surface. Some areas the water is normal, where others popped.

"Holy shit," Gerry said in amazement as he leaned in more. The others sluggishly nodded, dumbstruck.

Gerry leaned in too close.

Suddenly, a bubble doubled in size and burst. Gerry screamed as he held his face and rolled on the floor. Jon and the others jumped back in surprise, not knowing how to help. Gerry clobbered the wooden floor as he wailed in misery. At length, he finally stilled.

Ghost hurried from under the deck and circled the corpse. His muzzle took one sniff and the huge direwolf huffed and ran to Jon.

The crew stared at the dead body of Gerry. Tyrion eyes narrowed. Joseph is gulping. Yellow tooth is oddly quiet. On the ship it was mute.

Jon cautiously approached the corpse, ears twitching in alertness for any danger. Jon touched the shoulder with firmness and rolled the body over. Immediately, the strong stench hit Jon and the bastard covered his nose as his lilac eyes widen in shock.

Gerry's face is unrecognizable and for a good reason. Several patches of skin were burned off. His lips were being scalded. Eyebrows torched and…eyeballs no longer there.

Gerry's face still blistered with intolerable heat.

Jon backed stepped and held his mouth to prevent the rise of bile that formed in his throat. The crew stared longer than what was necessary at the body. They were spooked at the gruesome face and the sudden death of one of the crew members that sailed with them for weeks.

Tyrion licked his lips while he rubbed his hand through the thick fur of Ghost, trying to organize his troubled mind.

"Well, who is going to throw him overboard?" Tyrion asked dryly.

…

_James Strickland slashed his wooden sword with all his might at the shifty form. It proved to be useless. Jon kept moving. James roared and crashed the sword on Jon's shield. The force of the blow clipped pieces of wood off Jon's protection. Jon twisted and lifted the shield right to the Strickland's unguarded face._

_James landed on the ground and glared hatefully at Jon. There was a deep gash on his upper-forehead. Jon smirked back at him, enjoying whooping the ass of the cocky Strickland who challenged him._

_At the feet of Jon, multiple men groaned in pain that was delivered by Jon. The smirking bastard stood proudly as the onlookers looked at him with respect._

_The commander of their sub-division peered at him approvingly. "What did you say your name was, boy?"_

_"Jon Snow."_

_"So, Snow," The commander said as he walked around Jon, inspecting him curiously. "Are you capable of showing this skill set in battle?"_

_Jon nodded confidently. "Yes."_

_The man then stopped in front of him, a cruel smile creeping on his face. "Are you willing to spill the blood of our enemies in the honor of Bittersteel?_

_Jon gulped in apprehension. Could he really kill a man in cold blood? Jon, a second later, removed the thought with a sneer. This is why he came here. It for a chance to be more than a bastard._

_Jon met his commander's eyes. "Yes."_

...

The mood was dark and the air was grim on the deck. Yellow tooth was running a whetstone down the length of his sword. Joseph is going through his movements with his dual axes. Tyrion was reading his thick book with intentness.

"Are we going to die here?" Joseph asked out loud. The man tucked his axes away and seated himself down.

Tyrion looked up from his book and watched the green-head man. "There is a high chance of that happening."

Jon snorted. "What's our chance that we are going to complete this trip while staying alive?" Tyrion didn't answer and turned back to reading his book.

Jon took his silence as an answer and decided to change the topic. "Where are your men?" Jon asked.

When Tyrion frowned his eyebrows, Jon became more specific. "You're a Lannister. It's only right that you have men assigned to help you from Casterly rock." Jon said.

Tyrion shook his head and Jon scoffed."Doesn't your father know you are going to do this shit?"

Tyrion closed his book and searched through his bag for another one. "Yes, he sure does," He said cryptically.

Jon stared at him confused. "Then why don't you-"

"He doesn't care."

Jon bit his tongue in shock. he grimaced and rolled his tongue to cleanse the blood. "He doesn't care?" Jon repeated slowly. _What's that supposed to mean?_

Tyrion's chuckle was humorless. "My father never cared for me as he did for my brother and sister. To him, I wasn't worth a single Lannister soldier. To his mind, I am a bastard."

Jon ran his knuckles against his thick beard. "You are not a bastard. you're a true born son of Tywin Lannister. I don't understand what you are trying to say."

Tyrion stared at Jon with indifferent eyes. "All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes," He said without an ounce of emotion in his voice.

Not able to handle the dwarfs gaze any longer, Jon turned his head to the sounds of claws on the flooring of the deck. Ghost crept towards Jon with his ears raised up. The direwolf howled and the cry of the direwolf slit through the hushed vessel. The crew was rigid as they stared at the wolf.

"What's the matter, boy?" Jon asked, concerned. Ghost rarely made any sounds, and howling is on another level. Jon peered into his bright red eyes and Ghost met his gaze with his own intelligent ones. His ruby eyes were alarmed. _Okay, something is wrong._ "What's out there?" Jon asked quietly.

Ghost responded by sprinting to the head of the ship and howling again. The wolf glanced at Jon and back to the misty fog ahead of them.

Joseph laughed. "There is nothing wrong, Snow. Your wolf just wants to get off this boat." The man eyed the distressed wolf with amusement.

Yellow tooth stayed quiet as he focused on his sword. On the other hand, Tyrion watched the direwolf with interest. "He is trying to warn us," Tyrion suggested.

Yellow tooth shot this down. "It does not do that, direwolf or not," He said as he brought the sword to his face to inspect it.

Jon kept his attention on Ghost, the direwolf stared at him with pleading. Jon squints his eyes to view through the fog, Goosebumps ripping through his arms. Minutes passed with Jon staring at a wall of greatness. He was just about to give up when he caught a brief sight of a long tentacle amid the fog. It was hard to pick it out, but he damned sure saw it. Jon's eyes widen and he rushed over to the wheel. The others glanced at him in surprise at this sudden move.

"What the fuck, Snow?" Joseph asked as Jon steered the ship in wide left. "What got up in your arse?" He added, perplex at the behavior of the bastard.

Jon's arms shook as he let go of the wheel. He slowly turned his head and met the prying eyes of his crew members. "Trust me…" Jon started to move to the stairs leading to underneath the deck, "...It was the right thing to do." He stepped down the flight of stairs with Ghost prowling at his side.

Once he was alone, Jon pressed his shaky arms on the door of his room and pushed it open. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it with a shaky breath escaping his mouth. Jon sat there for a second to calm his beating heart and smiled tightly at Ghost who was staring at him intensely. _He is a friend that I couldn't ever replace, ever._

Jon rubbed Ghost white-boned fur. "Thanks, buddy," He murmured. Jon failed to keep his arms from shaking. He saw the proof with his own lilac eyes. Tyrion and the others will not take his word seriously. Their words to Gerry established that they would think he was mad and throw him in the waters; Waters that held deep-unknown creatures that lurked about. Jon stared at his hands. _Going along with Tyrion was a fucking mishap that is going to do more harm than good._ Jon thought his scars taught him to have a more common sense and to keep him alive.

 _I saw a bloody kraken_. Jon thought hollowly as he recalled long-slimy tentacles that rivaled the size of the very same vessel Jon is sailing on and a great body that equaled dozen-war ships.

…

_A strong punch turned Jon's head to the side. He kicked his legs uselessly at his attacker, but with two men holding him by the arms, he just has to take the beating. The two men smiled, happy at the chance to bring punishment to the bastard for embarrassing them in the training grounds._

_James Strickland smirked with joy as Jon spat another mouthful of blood. "Do you like that bastard?" He asked as he cocked back his fist for another blow._

_Jon smirked right back at him while supporting a black eye and said, "Go on do it. You punch like a bitch, and this is nothing to me." He spits in James face without hesitation._

_James growled and brought his fist towards Jon's face._

…

Yells and shouts jerked Jon out of his slumber. Ghost jumped out the bed and gazed at the door where the sounds were coming from with his ears upwards with alarm. Jon's vision was hazy with sleep as he drowsily looked around the room for the cause of the noise. He realized it was coming from the deck and ran for the door. _Oh gods…please not that squid!_

Jon climbed up the flight of the stairs and was awarded the sight of Yellow tooth rapidly steering the wheel as Joseph screamed him on. Tyrion paced the deck furiously as he gripped the sides of his head.

Tyrion took notice of him and waved him over with breakneck speed. Jon walked briskly to him and asked, "What the hell is going on!?" He demanded loudly.

Tyrion said no words and pointed up ahead. Jon followed his finger and gasped. A large outline of a mountain was seen through the fog. The form is getting clearer and clearer as the white-grey fog slowly dissolved as they got nearer. Jon recognized the problem. No matter how much they turned, the silhouette got wider and wider…and they were heading right towards it.

"Come on!" Jon screamed to the back of Yellow tooth. "Keep steering!" He was joined in by Tyrion and Joseph

Yellow tooth stunk of sweat as he swiftly continued pumping his arms. "I'm trying!" He grunted back. They were still in the line of sight with the hidden form.

"Do you want to die?" Tyrion shouted. Yellow tooth tiredly shook his head in no."Then I guess you want to live! Steer!"

Yellow tooth did one more rotation with the wheel and the form of the mountain disappeared to the side. The crew shouted in joy, but it then turned into gasps as the ship unexpectedly hit the rough surface of the land. The vessel shuddered and Jon was knocked off his feet, his back hitting the wooden side of the deck that took the breath out of his lungs. Jon took deep gasps as he held his aching side and got to his feet. Beside him, the others did the same too. They stared. They stared long and hard at the sight that lay upon their awe-filled gazes.

The loathsome fog that caused the crew dread for days was now gone.

Jon held his breath as he eyed the blacken, crumbled buildings, and the scorching of the cracked and broken rocks and boulders that rested on high cliffs that made Jon crane his neck in order for him to see. Trees were snapped in half as darkened leaves and branches lay on the deep green grass. Jon spun around and realized that they were just standing on one of the many islands that floated in this region. The sky was covered in unnaturally stormy, grey clouds and…the air-instead of being the expected chill…it was humid…it was hot.

Far…far…far in the distance Jon detected an island where a triangle-shaped form stood high. It was dark-ebony with ash seeming to be stuck in the air around it and a ring of red-molted draped around its tip.

A stream of fire or lava flew out its mouth and the earth trembled…

Jon fell on his ass, but his eyes were still on the quaking form. The lava streaked up in the air and went through the dark grey clouds. Before long the lava plummeted to the waters, it boiled with furious heat and bubbles appeared. The remaining lava that somehow did not fall in the water is trailing down the triangular form.

It was a volcano.

Jon fought to keep his breathing under-raps as he kneeled down. The others were rooted in the ground-wonder and fear colored their haggard faces.

Tyrion stepped up to his side. The shock was still on his face as he regarded the volcano in the distance. "That's a volcano," He exclaimed.

Joseph and Yellow tooth, still shaking, stood next to them. Joseph coughed in his fist. "If my head is thinking right, isn't all the volcano's supposed to be surrounding the main city of Valyria. In fact, didn't they all explode?" He asked as he looked to Tyrion for answers.

The dwarf just shrugged, having no ideas to this mystery. Tyrion rolled his head side-to-side to cease the stiffness in his neck. "The records must have been muddled with time, and with time everybody forgets it is a lie."

"We are in Valyria," Jon said hoarsely.

Tyrion looked somewhat hesitate to agree with that. "No." Tyrion shook his head. "Judging by the absence of the crumbled volcano's, we are still heading to it. However…" Tyrion looked back at the volcano. "We are close."

Yellow then joined in."Well, we are not going to stand around and do nothing, let's go!" The man got off the ship and landed on the ground. Old dust and ash sprang upwards as Jon followed the man. he waved in front of him as he coughed at being exposed to the chemicals. The crew looked around the destruction around them before heading to the wreckage of the burnt towers and buildings.

…

Jon stared amazed at the sights as he walked with the others through the small island. everything seemed to reach out to him, and Jon felt a pull on his mind that he couldn't understand. Like he shouldn't ever leave. Ghost sniffed everything that came to pass. trees, branches, and boulders. As they walked, they saw that trees and snapped trees dominated the space on the island.

"What's that?" Yellow tooth suddenly said, attracting the attention of Jon. To the left, with piles of trees in the way, was a collapsed building. It was likely a fortress before the doom took place. To Jon, the pull was stronger than ever, and he can't resist it. Jon strode ahead of the others and approached the ruined fortress.

Jon frantically searched for the entrance because the pull was too strong to ignore. Eventually, he found a dark-hidden hole. It was only big enough for a child to crawl through but Jon made it work. He was desperate to find out the force that is drawing him in.

"Snow wait! Don't just go rushing in!" Tyrion shouted in warning. Jon kept crawling.

It was pitch-dark.

Jon breathed loudly as the air got harder to inhale. After a few more grueling moments of crawling in the darkness, he was free.

Jon stood in a great-hall of some sort. He craned his head to see the room looking like it was about to come crashing on his head, so Jon quickly moved out the way to another room. Suddenly, the pull came back again, and this time in greater force. Jon's feet were moving without his command like somebody was controlling his body with strings. Jon couldn't see but somehow knew where he is going, he was not nervous but was down-right scared to bits on how this was happening.

Jon took another step and the floor gave out beneath him. He screamed as he fell through. The whooshing of air flapped his hair and nicked his ears as he continued to decline to the unknown. Jon yelled with all his voice cord can offer. After what seemed to be an eternity, his back landed on the rough ground.

Jon didn't get the time to groan in pain as the unknown force was in work with his body again. Jon got up and went on to walk once more. He figured he was walking in a hallway when he took a sharp right to a thick oak door. Jon gasped at the familiar sight of the Targaryen sigil on the old-dusty door. He turned the handle and stepped in the room to be blinded by a glare.

The pull that was controlling him had faded away but the bright glare hadn't. Jon grunted in anger and rolled out of the way to put out the light from his eyes. Jon crouched on the ground as he forcibly closed his eyes to get rid of the stinging that throbbed.

His eyes opened.

And widen in shock and amazement.

_No steel should look like that._

_No steel should shine like that._

_And no steel should have a sharp edge like that._

_Oh, gods…its Valyrian steel._

…

Jon was forced to his knees by the bigger man. The man smirked at him, saying no words because he couldn't. Yellow tooth and Joseph lay dead on the ground five feet away, slashes across their throat. Tyrion was next to Jon and the dwarf glared at the men that caught them by surprise. The valyrian sword that Jon found moments ago was picked up by a random person who gazed at it with awe. Jon scowled at the man. That was his sword, and he was the motherfucker who found it, not them. _Those are cunts that can't even speak._

In one motion, the rows of men shifted aside and a lone man strolled up to the two. The man was tall wore a set of armor that shone even if it was pure black. He had two swords around his waist and finally…he wore an eye patch that hung over his left eye while the other eye was a cloudy-grey. An eye that was now evilly gazing at the bastard and the imp.

"What do we have here?" The man asked grandly. "Besides myself, I never knew someone who crossed the smoking sea and coming out alive before.

Jon growled. "Who the fuck are you?!" he asked, furiously. Just when things were looking good, these cunts arrived out of thin air and fucked the joyful mood up its ass.

The man observed Jon carefully, and his long hair that reached his shoulders gave him an image of a raider. The man slowly smiled. "Well nice meeting you too, Jon Snow…" He paused and pulled back his eye patch. Jon and Tyrion were stunned into silence at the swirling mad blue maze of his eye.

"I am Euron Greyjoy," He said, stunning the pair even more than what was possible. Euron grabbed Jon's Valyrian sword and admired it for a second. He turned back to Jon. "Before you die…I want you to feast your eyes as I bind a dragon under my control…would you like that?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Jon Snow**

Patience is a virtue.

Jon realized this from the moment he held a wooden sword as he clashed with Robb in the courtyard. Nine out of ten, Robb used to dominate him in every way possible. Jon pondered why, why the heir of winter had bested him time and time again. One day, when Ned stark usually stood and watched them spar from the balcony, he walked over and pulled Jon to the side and whispered in his ear. Robb had been smirking at the whispering pair and lazily flexed his arms at their siblings that spent their time observing the spar. Arya had crossed her arms and pouted in disappointment. Theon had a full-blown grin on his face. Sansa clapped politely. Bran watched with bated breath. Rickon placed his thumb in his mouth and drooled.

Robb egged him on when Jon finished talking to father. The red-brown head held his sword confidently, thinking his words with father had been for naught. Faster than what everybody expected, Jon smacked Robb's sword aside and brought him to the ground. From that day on, Jon won every spar to the displeasure of the Greyjoy and Lady Stark.

His time as a commander for the golden company enhanced that perk. Jon was respected and known as a person who is calm in front of the impossible. His experience and his scars were a guide book that saved his neck from the sharp edge of an Arakah.

During his touring of Essos Jon formed a code. It was a set of rules to survive this harsh reality. One: always be on your guard. Two: don't trust anybody. Three: constant vigilance. Four: don't panic.

At this moment that code is being pushed to its absolute limits. Jon didn't know how long he spent on this ship but he just waited for the opportunity to escape.

It never came.

Jon sat against the wooden wall of Euron's ship, chained. The rotten smell of dead bodies and other unknowns compelled Jon to puke through his miserable time on this ship. Several times, the puke ending up being on his clothes that reeked for weeks.

There were folks chained with him, but Jon didn't regard them as normal.

They did not talk.

Nor did they try to.

Warlocks and mongrels were chained just like Jon. Jon yelled and screamed at them but it was worthless. They stared astray at nowhere, absent of everything. The consistent sight of their sewed lips paused Jon's ability to think or talk.

Tyrion was not underneath the deck with him. The crow's eye placed him on another ship, wary of Jon and the dwarf forming a plan that may topple him. The ship is too silent for Jon's taste. There were muffled sounds outside of the area, something Jon does not want to see. Without Tyrion's running mouth Jon was used to…the silence is unbearable. To add to this, Jon was tortured daily with whips that he never saw before. It was lined with tiny but sharp spikes that sent tremors of pain down his back. Jon always fought back, But the beating increased with every protest, so he accepts the torture in the prospect it will end quickly. What else could he do?

Jon thrust his head in his hands angrily. This is becoming too much for the bastard. The silence, the tortures, the mystery muffled sounds on deck, the possibility of him getting his lips sewed…it was too much to bear. Ghost presence next to him calmed him slightly. Three men died trying to subdue the direwolf but eventually, Ghost ended up chained as well.

Jon was sick of it.

With each passing day, he felt his sanity slipping.

His mind was swirling into depths that captivated him in his solitude.

Jon hated this ship. He hates the damned Valyria. He hates the mute beings that stood upon this vessel. And most of all…he hates Euron fucking Greyjoy.

He screamed but there was still silence.

**Aegon**

"You will marry Margaery Tyrell the next moon, Aegon," Rhaegar informed him with the stern.

The king solar was decorated with Targaryen colors of red and black, and it was thoughtfully placed about with a single lone silvery harp propped in the corner.

Elia Martell was a beautiful woman and no longer as frail as she was years ago. With the death of the mad king, her health has improved tremendously. The mad king's ravings often left her scared and afraid for her children's safety but that soon passed. Her sun-kissed skin, delicate and nice dress, her dark brown hair and brown eyes that were now narrowed at her son Aegon as she sat next to Rhaegar.

Aegon frowned and gripped his armrest. "No," He said stubbornly. He does not want to nor will he.

Rhaegar raised one silver eyebrow "This is an order, Aegon," He said softly, with a brief hint of a warning underneath.

"I don't want to marry her," Aegon growled. Margaery is not the woman he loves. It's another, however, Rhaegar rebuts his desires with a hard look of those sad lilac eyes.

Rhaegar intertwined his long fingers and settle it on his desk. "This is not for you to change son. it's past due time you match with a betrothal. I allowed you to not have your match longer than what is necessary. The time is up, Aegon."

Aegon shook his head in denial. "Why does it have to be her?" He asked lowly. He met the Tyrell before at a tourney here in kingslanding. Margaery is not a bad woman, and she was far from it. Instead, she shows off. The Tyrell knew she is going to marry the crowned prince, and she subtly rubs it in lords and ladies faces. When Aegon is around her, he feels like he is going to suffocate with piles of flowers. He despises this.

Rhaegar leaned on the desk. "You know why. The Tyrells are still seeking to be rewarded for their loyalty with the capture of Storm's end," He said softly. He has been saying this to Aegon countless times to the point the prince can memorize the exact words that were said with ease.

Aegon did not buy this. "They did nothing!" He finally yelled and stood from his seat to tower over his father. "They ate and feasted in front of that damn castle! The only reason Stannis yielded the castle is because of Robert's death! The fat flower sat on his ass! That's all!" His enraged voice echoed in the room.

Aegon went on with vengeance. "You want me to marry off to someone I don't want to marry, but you don't do that to Rhaenys do you?!"

Elia said. "Don't speak to your father in that way." She gave him a hard look. "Let Dany go. This has to end, Egg," She pressed. Aegon shook his head quickly.

Rhaegar slowly stood up. Father and son were the exact same height and for that, they were standing brow-to-brow, eye-to-eye.

Rhaegar spoke softly but with authority that comes with being a king. "You are my son, the crown prince of the seven kingdoms. It is your duty as such."

Aegon replied with heat. "This is not fair. I love Dany!" He clenched his fist tightly.

Rhaegar remained poised and responded. "I know. You are, however, the next line to the throne when I am gone. There are going to be sacrifices along the way, Ageon. We don't always get what we want."

Aegon became rigid and a cloud of red filled his vision. His father has no right to say that, and so he is a hypocrite. "Did you ever thought about that when you ran off with Lyanna?" he asked harshly.

The left side of Ageon's cheek flared in pain, and he gasped. He looked around, slightly dazed to what happened until he realized he was lying on the floor. His father had hit him.

Aegon stared up at his father in shock. For the length of his life, his father never laid a hand on his children. Rhaegar doing so now had Aegon tight-lipped as he held his stinging cheek.

Rhaegar appeared to have lost his cool as he looked down at his son, and his purple gaze was on fire. "You have the gall to mention this, in my face?" Rhaegar inched closer to Aegon as if to strike him again. Lucky for Aegon, Elia rushed from her seat and placed a warm hand on Rhaegar's arm.

"Calm down, Rhaegar. He wasn't thinking, " Elia said soothingly. She ran her slender fingers in a circle on his back for more effect and leaned her head on his shoulder.

Rhaegar breathed in and out from his nose as his anger waned. Aegon was still laying on his back as he gazed at his father in astonishment, afraid of setting off his anger again if he somewhat moved.

Rhaegar's anger faded, and Elia moved from him and walked forward to help Aegon back on his feet. The king of Westeros glanced at Aegon and said. "Dany and your grandmother will sail back to Dragonstone. Dany is allowed to come back to the red keep after your wedding with Margaery Tyrell." Rhaegar paused and watched his red-faced son. "This affair with Dany will go no further. I mean it. You will do your duty." Rhaegar stepped around his desk and sat in his chair. "You may leave."

Aegon stiffly nodded and shrugged off his mother's embrace and went towards the door. Not wanting to get his father's satisfaction in seeing him rage, he calmly closed the door behind him.

Aegon panted in anger. He grasped his silver hair as he almost had the urge to tear it from the roots of his head. Dany is the only woman he loved, and the only one he could love. Being restricted from her is excruciating as it was cruel. He, Rhaenys and Dany grew up together and played together. At a certain age, Aegon and Dany formed feelings that weren't appropriate for nephew and aunt. They did not care because they were Targaryens. Its what they do.

He had to see her.

"My prince," Arthur said quietly, "Are you ill?"

Aegon stared at his guard in confusion then realized he had been standing in the same spot for a couple of minutes. Servants passed by in the halls and sent him weird and odd looks as they walked around him.

Aegon forced a smile on his face. "Yes, I'm alright Arthur."

Arthur didn't seem convinced, but he kept his opinion to himself and nodded in return. Aegon turned around and wiped the fake smile of his face as he strode towards his destination.

Aegon just turned another corner before his vision was blurred by a string of silvery hair. Rhaella Targaryen smiled at him. Her poster was tense, and Aegon saw right through her bright smile. Oswell Whent took guard behind her protectively.

"Hello, Aegon," His grandmother greeted.

"Hello," Aegon replied a bit impatiently. He had to see Dany and his grandmother stood in his path.

Rhaella smile then disappeared and she set her face into a frown, wrinkles barely noticeable with her pale skin. Rhaella is an old woman, but she can still make men kneel and proclaim about her beauty. Her black dress compliments her light lilac eyes.

"You are going to see Dany," Rhaella stated oddly.

"Yes, I am," Aegon said shortly. "If you excuse me." He stepped to the side only to be mirrored by his grandmother. Oswell watched from his position grimly, and his normally playful eyes were overtaken by pity.

Aegon groaned underneath his breath and waited for her to explain. Rhaella crossed her arms and stared at him, her face still in a frown.

"Grandmother," Aegon prompted gently with a touch of annoyance.

"Let her go, Egg," She said at last.

Aegon scowled. _Y_ _ou know what? I hate that phrase._ "What do you mean?" Deep down, he knew.

Oswell opened his mouth but Rhaella waved her hand and the men grew silent. The old woman glanced at him sadly. "She is gone."

 _She is gone?_ Dread unsettled his stomach. "What?" He asked in a rush.

"The docks," Was the simple answer.

…

Aegon pushed past folks that chatted in the roads. Mutters and curses reached his ears as he hurriedly sped to the docks. Arthur did his best to match his pace, but his heavy armor and his flapping white cape slowed him down tremendously and he was soon caught up in the crowd.

Space became wider and Aegon caught the sight of the blue water and a cluster of men and women…and Rhaenys. Aegon strolled up beside her and stared ahead. There were ships sailing, but Aegon peeled his anguished eyes on the one that stood out. A small ship sailed away and a banner of house Targaryen flapped in the air. On deck, Dany's eyes met his and her's widen in shock. She hesitantly waved at him with a mournful smile, tears threaten to escape those purple eyes. Aegon didn't wave back and instead looked at his feet. After a moment, he looked back up and she was gone, back into the deck out of view.

Aegon's throat tightened. It was too soon. His wedding was a moon away. She could have stayed longer. Why did she leave? Aegon was informed by his father that Dany will be sailing with grandmother, but it was smashed down like the possibility of fulfilling his dreams of her being his wife.

Rhaenys hugged Aegon from the side and whispered in his ear. "It's okay Egg. It's okay."

It wasn't.

"Let her go," Rhaenys whispered.

Aegon hated that damned phrase more than anything.

"Maybe you will come to love Margaery. Anything can happen, Egg."

Aegon could never love her like he how loved Daenerys.

**_"I don't care what happens, Dany, will you stay by my side?"_ **

**_"Aegon, I will never leave you."_ **

But she did.

**Rhaegar**

The Targaryen family and the kingsguard rested in the solar of the king. Rhaenys sat next to Aegon and laid a supportive hand on his thigh. The crown prince had his eyes on the floor as he kept to himself gloomy. Eila as always sat next to Rhaegar and Rhaella. The kingsguard bowed to the king and exited the room gracefully.

"She left?" Rhaegar asked softly but with a twinge of surprise. Rhaenys nodded slightly in confirmation. Rhaegar glanced sideways to Aegon to see the prince didn't twitch or move in response.

"Aegon," Elia called out. Aegon didn't move. "Egg." He still didn't move.

"Aegon," Rhaegar called strongly. The prince raised his head and glanced at him with a bit of redness in his eyes. "Dany did what is for the best, son."

"Ok."

"When you are older and a king yourself, you will understand."

"Ok."

"You will do your duty to the realm."

"You've already said that."

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes. The boy's attitude is unfitting for his station as a prince. He has to get his act together.

His pondering was cut off by Jaime Lannister as he opened the door and popped his head in. Tywin Lannister's unwillingness to join the Targaryen's in the war against the usurper caused Rhaegar to form a punishment that will leave the old lion seething in Casterly Rock. Letting Jaime stay in the kingsguard was that punishment. Tywin had expectations towards his golden boy, to be the heir, all of it ruined with the words that came out from the mouth of Rhaegar. With Jaime in the kingsguard and Tyrion Lannister's location unknown, Tywin is forced to take what he has in Joffrey Lannister, a slow boy.

"Varys comes with urgent news, my king," Jaime said.

"Let him in." Rhaegar sat up in his seat. It was not often the spider will intrude on a family gathering.

Jaime opened the door wider and took a step back to let Varys enter. The green-eyed man closed the door behind him. Varys walked to the middle of the solar and bowed to the king. He smelled of lavender.

"What did you gather?" Rhaegar asked melancholy.

"The most unfortunate news, your grace," Varys replied grimly. The Targaryen's perked their heads up at this.

Rhaegar waved him to continue, and Varys paused then continued. "Lys, Tyrosh and Myr declare war, your grace."

Euron Greyjoy

Euron raised his hands to the sky and laughed hysterically. His eyes scattered place to place as he swayed happily on his feet. His blue-stained lips quivered in joy as he held a long bottle that contained inky and the smelly beverage. Images of the past that long since passed and the future that had yet to come swept through his mind. Euron saw millions of silver-head folks stare up in horror as large shapes darted across the sky and cast shadows that covered the whole earth. He saw an enormous wall of ice being formed from a frosty breath from above. He saw a land that was covered in trees and wildlife with giant wyrms that slowly turned to ice and snow and death. A sword in the darkness was lit with a light so bright it sent dead corpses fleeing, the dead giants fleeing, ice spiders big as hounds fleeing, the others fleeing and the night king fleeing. The sword sent them all fleeing.

Euron saw many different scenarios that would have shaped the whole world. A big man in yellow and black armor with antlers on his helm smashed a heavy war hammer to another man who wore Rubies that shattered and scattered to the rushing waters of the trident. A pretender with silver hair and behind him elephants pounding their trunks in the dirt. Kingslanding exploding in a great color of green. A dying dragon falling into ice as an icy spear made of the coldest frost was plunged into its neck. And there was him…

Jon Snow.

Eyes the color of amethyst, dark-brown hair, silver-hair with grey eyes or the hair of the Starks and their grey eyes. It matters little, it was still him. These scenarios all connected and trace to the bastard. Flying a dragon, wielding a flaming sword, warging, destroying the night king.

Becoming the night king.

Snow isn't a bastard after all. And Euron has him in his grasp. He is going to be his slave. His personal Targaryen slave. It was only right to have a Targaryen when he's also going to bind a Dragon that was thought perished.

The visions ebbed away and the real world seeped in. The air was burning. Ash and red smoke swirled in the air violently and shook his ships. Behind the silence, two other ships were close but wavered in the water by the furious wind. Rather being cold, the atmosphere was hot and humid and was getting warmer as they continued sailing.

Euron could feel dark monstrous eyes watching them or rather him. But they made no move to attack. They knew. They knew he was their fucking master, their ruler. He was a god. The whole world would bow to him and say his name in awe and fear. It was only right. People think he is mad, but they do not see what he sees. Euron noticed the discreet glances his crew sent him. They never voiced their opinions. Euron took time and care to remove every single one's tongue out, hence the name of this ship: Silence.

They were getting closer to the dragon; Euron could feel it. With the dragon under his control, the effect will be devastating and exciting. The drown god is nothing compared to him, others will soon see that.

The Greyjoy is the lone person on deck. His mute crew instead went to their rooms, not brave enough or strong enough to witness this storm, not like him. Euron glanced to the right to spy an object that rested against a big-brown sack that had tars that gave a peek of a glint of Valyrian weapons that Euron collected. He tugged the bag with a quick hand and the large horn was revealed, Euron had a glint in his eye and licked his lips. Valyrian glyphs and foreign writings, the dragon horn was decorated in red and gold with it gleaming amid the storm. Euron smiled. _This is going to be the downfall of the Targaryens._ Euron thought with glee. A few years after the Targaryen's secured the throne, the iron islands called for a rebellion. It was a brief war. The ironborn were outnumbered and outsmarted. Balon's war cost him the lives of his sons, Theon as a ward of the Starks, and his pride. Euron did not care for his brothers or his people, though the Targaryens made them a laughing stock for the rest of Westeros to see. And Euron is going to make them scream, with a dragon. It's going to ironic; the dragons used to be a symbol of the Targaryen's rise to power. Now it's going to represent their end.

 _And I just happened to have a Targaryen on this ship._ Euron stepped away from the dragon horn and walked underneath the deck.

…

Euron laughed at Jon's screams. The 16-year-old was held to the floor by a brute man with a foot on his back. His wolf growled and yelped but stayed in place by the chain around his neck. The direwolf showed his sharp teeth as he rapidly moved his paws to no avail.

Euron struck his whip upon Jon's bare back that made him hiss in pain. The torture continued and blood sprayed across his crazed face as he laughed. Jon's body lurched with agony. And he closed his eyes to try to suppress his yells. It proved useless as he let out a scream after another hit. Euron threw the whip to a dark corner. Slaves took no notice of what's going on as they blankly stared at the walls, silent.

Euron grinned sadistically and pulled out a sharp pointed Valyrian dagger out of his sleek Armor. Jon turned his head around and stared at the dagger with wariness. Euron loved the swim of fear that was clear in those amethyst eyes; it encouraged him to continue his actions. A stout, scared man walked into the room wordlessly and took hold of Jon's left arm as the other man took the right. They turned around Jon so his back was to Euron.

"Fuck you!" Jon screamed as he struggled against their hold. He quickened his squirming as Euron drew closer with his wicked blade. The direwolf was now berserk. Foam appeared in his wide snapping mouth and his red eyes gleamed as he wanted to protect its master.

Euron grabbed a handful of Jon's curls and snapped back his neck so he was next to his ear. "Call me master."

Jon pulled his head back from his grasp and brought it back, and Euron gasped in pain and anger as he held his broken nose. With a growl, he slashed in a vertical line across Jon's back. Jon yelled as dark, red blood flowed from the cut and into the floor. Euron laughed and clapped his hands as his two men stood quietly with guarded expressions.

"The more you struggle the more pain you will experience, Snow," Euron said cheerfully.

Jon was too weak to reply so he gasped in response. Euron then smiled cruelly. "Oh, the mighty and furious Jon snow. Lying at the feet of an exiled and mad Greyjoy. How would Essos react to this I wonder?"

Euron went on as he ignored Jon's gasping. "This is a small thing. With the dragon under my whim, you are going to be forgotten as they will talk of me instead."

Jon then laughed weakly. "This is madness. Dragons are all dead, you crazy fool."

Euron replied crazed frenzy."You are the fool, blind like everybody else. No one can see what I see. There is magic in this world, from the wall to Valyria. I see it all."

Jon shook his head as he laughed. "Sure you do. I will not believe this crazed shit. You are truly fucked up in the head, Greyjoy. If I was Balon, I would take your head instead of banishing you."

Another angry slash hit and Jon closed his mouth and hung his head forward as the pain was too much. Euron smoothed his hand over the slashes, making Jon hiss loudly. He poked his finger in the wound and Jon suddenly found life as he flexed his arms and yelled, bending his back to find some type of way to get away from that burning finger.

Euron took away the pressure and grinned. "You are going to call me master, one way or another, Snow. I can promise you that."

Euron then gasped and spin on his feet before he stopped and looked at Jon with a knowing look. "Oh, I can't call you Snow anymore can I?" He asked.

Jon stiffened. "If you want to mock by calling me a bastard, I won't stop you. It won't change who I am."

Euron slowly walked in front of Jon and got in his face and said. "But what I am about to say will, Snow." Euron enjoyed the confusion on his face before delivering the blow. "Or should I say, Jon Targaryen?"

Euron leaned back just when Jon made the attempt to head-butt him, and the Greyjoy punched Jon with his left fist. Jon coughed at the amount of blood that built in his mouth.

Jon snarled as he regained himself. "I am no damned Targaryen. My mother is from Lys. Just because I have their eyes doesn't mean I am one of them!" He said loudly.

Euron knocked Jon's head back again and Euron shook his head with a smile. "Did you ever wonder why you didn't feel like you belonged with the Starks?"

Jon froze and he then glared at him. "How do you know that," He said in a low voice.

Euron went on. "I told you, Targaryen. I can see!" The crow's eye yelled, crazed. Under his eye patch, it itched and twitched.

Jon looked shaken but answered confidently. "I am not a Targaryen. your crazy words won't persuade me."

Euron paced in front of him, eager to strike a dagger of words into the man's heart. "Eddard never talked about your mother," He said calmly.

Jon's face turned red. "She came from Ly-"

Euron broke in. "No no… That is a lie. The Stark only said that to cover up your birth."

Jon's face paled but he replied, "He would never lie to me. He never did."

Euron smiled and raised his arms upon his head as he enjoyed causing him pain. "Oh, but he did. Eddard Stark is praised for his honesty and his awareness of what is right from wrong, but does anybody truly know him? Of what goes through that northern head of his? No, you don't. I, however, do." Euron bounced on his heels "Why was he in Dorne?"

Jon was taken aback by the sudden answer but responded, "To bring Lyanna back to Winterfell."

Euron inclined his head. "Yes, what happens to Lyanna?"

"Died From childbirth."

"The child?"

"It was stillborn."

Euron leaned on his toes. He was so…close. "Did Eddard ever bring their bones to Winterfell?"

"Yes."

Euron grinned very manically."When were you brought to Winterfell?" The truth was on the verge of being revealed.

Jon frowned in thought. "Around the same ti-"He stopped and looked to the wooden floor, his many curls hiding his face.

It was quiet.

Very silent

Euron watched the silent form of Jon Targaryen, happily imagining the pain and the betrayal that was resident in the 16-year-old."Now that is out of the way, I have something to do." Euron said as he walked back around Jon to peer at his scarred back.

Euron placed his dagger on his skin and paused for any words or protest from Jon but he was silent. Euron shrugged and did his artwork on the pale skin. Euron hummed as he raced his dagger in sharp movements. He did it slowly and with the strength to cause more pain. Jon stayed motionless and took the pain without a word. Euron stepped back to examine his work with a smile and he nodded in glee.

On Jon's back was a small carving of a miniature eye.

**Jon**

Ghost licked his face with love and protectiveness, though Jon did not notice as he was conflicted with emotions. His back burned and ached but Jon didn't care.

He is not a bastard but a Targaryen.

His fat-uncle lied to him. Now Ned Stark's refusal to speak about his mother made sense. He was not his son. He took him from behind Rhaegar's back and told the world the baby of Lyanna was dead. If the king comes to the knowledge that Ned took his son, it was death for certain. So Ned kept it a secret and kept him a secret.

Anger rushed to him. Then it stumped out. What could he do? Jon is not going to rat about the lie to get Ned killed, he still somehow loved the man who raised him like his own. Jon is not going to leave the Stark children without their father. Robb and Arya will be in grief and blame him. Jon gained two siblings while losing five in return.

But most of all, he wanted to see how Lady Stark would react to this shit.

**Euron Greyjoy**

It is here, he finally found it.

A roar, louder than anything Euron heard in his life, cracked the air like thunder. The water rippled as the ships wavered. On deck, mutes were looking around in the red-ash smoke for the creator of the roar. A dark humongous shape was seen as wings big as mountains flapped. The crew was paralyzed with fear as it roars again. Euron was different. He was grinning crazily and looked to the nearest person to him. "Grab the fucking horn. It's time that I become a god," He said grandly.

The man nodded in fear and raced to grab the horn and went back over to Euron. He nodded and said with calm, "Blow it."

The man started shaking as he glanced from the horn and to his master in nervousness and shifted on his feet.

"Someone throw him overboard!" Euron called out enraged. The dragon will soon find them and turn them all to ash, there can be no delay. A man grabbed the shaken mute and wordlessly threw him off the deck. The sound of splashing was heard but no screams.

Euron pointed at another man. "You, come over here!" He ordered with a bit of panic. The man took the horn without question and blew. Instantly, the horn brightened with white light and the man's lips evaporated and his mouth too…then his stomach. Showing no care for the man, Euron eagerly looked to the smoke.

Silence.

The crew eyes drifted to Euron with panic. The Greyjoy stood with a frozen expression as his eye bulged while the other ached like a warning. Euron swung his head to the man next in line. "Blow!" He commanded with fear. The man blew and just became like the original, mouth evaporating.

Still, there was silence.

Euron's hands shook as he looked around for the dragon that should be under his control. What was happening?

"Blow!"

"Blow!"

"Blow!"

Man after man blew…and still no sight of the dragon. Euron turned around to see only two men were left standing."Turn this ship around!" He ordered. If he couldn't bind the dragon, there was no reason staying here.

A force of air knocked Euron and his men off their feet. And the waters rippled as a roar had Euron's head ringing. A dark-ebony, black as coil serpent with wings flew into sight.

It was big.

Ash was floating in a frenzy as dark-beady eyes fasten on to one of the ships, and in a speed of light, the huge dragon flapped in front of a vessel and opened its mouth.

A stream of emerald fire flew out with a bang.

The waters were alight with green flame.

Euron was stunned as he watched the dragon tear apart his ships. With its claws or fire, it got the job done. The Dragon roared as it continued on its rampage, wood splintered as creaks and the groans of the ships sank underneath the water.

Two ships remained.

And the dragon chose to take out Euron first. The dragon bared his teeth at Euron with blood-lust in its eyes. Euron no longer felt the twitching of his eye patch as the dragon's mouth widened.

**Jon**

A clank of metal jarred Jon out of his dark musings. He glanced towards Ghost to see the direwolf was free of his chains. Jon stared in surprise. He knew that Ghost had lost a good amount of weight. He just didn't expect he would lose so much that he was able to wiggle out of his chains. But Jon is still chained, though his buddy can now escape.

Jon smiled at Ghost sadly. "Good job, buddy."

Jon's ears perked up at the sound of crashes and the screaming of the water and Jon's hair stood up on end. Something dangerous is out there. He pointed to Ghost. "Go!"

Ghost whined and stayed where he was. It was apparent that he had no intent to leave his master's side. Another crash was heard, "Come here, Ghost." Jon beckoned with his hand. Ghost prowled forward and Jon held his head as he looked into his ruby eyes, "Please listen to me, Ghost. I don't want you to die just to stay with me."

Ghost stared at Jon for the longest of moments before galloping to the open door. The Direwolf then looked back at Jon. The 16-year-old smiled sadly and waved for him to go. Ghost howled and trotted out the room.

 _Goodbye, Ghost._ Jon thought fondly. Suddenly, the ship tilted to the left and green fire was reflected in Jon's wide lilac eyes.

…

"Snow!"

"Snow!"

Distant shouts awoke Jon. He looked around confusingly. He lay upon the land as darkened grass tickled his back. Jon sat up and took notice of the wreckage. Broken pieces of ship parts floated on the waters with dancing green-flame that burned so hot it appeared it will never go out. The air was tense, with red and green ash with clouds that had a red tint.

 _How am I alive?_ Jon thought, perplexed. Whatever that green flame was, Jon was sure he touched by it. _Because I am a Targaryen._ Jon thought unemotionally.

Whenever Jon was stress or annoyed he ruffles his hair. But there was none to be found. Jon ran his fingers on his head, feeling the smoothness of the top of his head instead of the preferred mass of curls he had since he was a boy. _It will grow back._ Jon looked to his side to see two figures approaching and couldn't believe his and their luck.

Tyrion was walking briskly to him with Ghost happily tagging along. Jon smiled tiredly and got to his feet. Oddly, Ghost stopped and looked upwards intently. Tyrion glanced up as well and stopped also.

Jon frowned. He was about to shout when a crash came from behind that almost knocked him off his feet. Jon righted himself quickly. A sniff was heard as a breath connected with his back. Jon felt his body tremble as he slowly turned around.

Only to find a black snout that was larger than his entire whole body.


	7. Chapter 7

**Jon**

What is power?

That was the million dragon question. Many people searched the answer for centuries. Some squandered their lives away. But Jon knew. It is total control and domination over your helpless prey, and that power was standing right in front of him. Euron tried to control it but where was he now?

The great beast is big,  _humongous._ The size of this monster has to be in the two hundred feet range. It cast a shadow on the frozen forms below. The scale of its size caused Jon to have a small migraine.

"Snow!" Tyrion yelled fearfully."Get away from it!"

Jon body was disabled of movement. The dragon's eyes pinned him to the spot. Its dark green eyeballs were the shade of the purest wildfire and the pupil is the color of the purest gold. It struck a painful chord in Jon's brain; it was frightening identical to the fires that still burned on the broken ships. The ebony dragon was long-serpent like a body. Its neck was long and so was its tail. The tail was spiked. It's two short but muscular legs stood upright. Two dark wings were obviously its forelimbs; they were sinewy but powerful. The dragon was scaled from head to tail, and with horns on its head and along its face that would skewer painfully. The horns were a dirty white, slightly blackened.

Regaining his senses, Jon lowered his gaze, knowing damn well a beast of its size would take a staring contest as a threat. And Jon does not want to be marked as a threat by a dragon. It will be the death of him.

Jon slowly took a step back, then a second one, then a third. The beast slit its eyes and growled. It crawled to him until they were the same distance a few moments ago to Jon's angst.

"…Holy…" Jon muttered. He gulped and took another step back. The dragon growled again, louder this time. It huffed, small smoke escaping its nostrils, and closed the distance again.

"Tyrion…help me," Jon whispered. He kept his eyes to the darkened grass, all the while feeling the strong gaze of the dragon.

Tyrion was frozen by the mere presence of a creature that was considered perished. "What do you want me to do?" Tyrion retorted in a low voice.

"Do anything. You're smart," Jon hissed back. Absolutely anything can help right now. This was that dire.

"This is a fucking dragon. You think we can do something?" Tyrion's reply was dripping with incredulity. "Just…stay calm."

Jon anger flared up. A freaking dragon is up-close to his bloody face and he thinks they should do nothing? The dragon will get bored and destroy them with a burst of flame. It wouldn't kill Jon, but he was worried about his companions who can't survive the fire.

Jon calmed down.  _This is the first time a dragon was spotted in over a hundred years. Causation is needed, and I don't blame him._

Time flew by with Jon and Tyrion falling intense silence, not wanting an aggressive dragon on their asses. A few feet away, Ghost is softly growling and Jon prayed to the old gods he won't do something foolish.

"Why is it staring at me, please quench my curiosity," Jon finally spoke. If it wasn't for the dreadful training by the golden company, he would no doubt be stammering and sputtering on his own words in fear.

Jon heard a rustle and agreed to himself that it was the dwarf shrugging his shoulders. Jon never felt so exposed and it was not the concern of his nudeness. The dragon's eyes continued to watch him; Jon could feel it. He felt a shudder up his spine.  _is it interested in me?_  He held that assumption rather than the opposite, that the dragon is not so secretly daydreaming about devouring him whole.

The dragon inched closer and Jon stiffened and trembled uncontrollably. Its black nozzle inched closer and closer until Jon could feel the heat radiating from it as it breathed. Jon turned his head to the side to not meet its dangerous-burning gaze. To his astonishment, it began  **sniffing** him.

The dragon implied his interest as he prodded Jon with his large nozzle. Jon got the uncomfortable urge to scratch the itches that sprang at the touches of the dragon.

A loud growl interrupted Jon's pondering. Ghost rushed to his side and barked into the dragon's face like the gallant knight he is.

The dragon growled loudly and drew back before the huge direwolf could get a bite at him.  _Shit, Ghost!_  Jon thought with dread. He had to save his direwolf from being a  **fried** direwolf.

The dragon took a step back. The ground shook a bit as its powerful legs made work. It narrowed its eyes at Ghost and slowly opened its mouth. Jon saw through the razor-sharp teeth and saw a green light illumining at the dark depths of its throat.

Without thinking, and with impulsiveness, Jon lurched forward and pressed a rough-pale hand on the dragon's warm ebony snout. A staggering spark hit Jon's hand and trailed to every part of Jon's body.

"Jo-"The words Tyrion was about to say we're stuck in nowhere. Green-black eyes stared in wonder at the incredible display between man and beast.

Jon gasped as unknown sensations were bashing into him like a sword would do to a worn-battered shield. The assault left him breathless. The dragon closed its mouth, green-gold eyes watching him keenly.

Black and red ash swirled in the air around them, causing Jon to squint his eyes but otherwise kept his hand on the dragon's burning snout. Lilac eyes locked with the green eyes.

At that moment, Jon knew his life is going to change. He doesn't know if it's for the better or worse but definitely going to change and it has him apprehensive.

"Jon, I think it's a good time for you to explain," Tyrion said tersely, stubby fingers doing a pattern on his other elbow.

**Aegon**

The council room was in an uproar. The lords in this room angrily traded barbs over the news that was just received. To others, Rhaegar is placid, showing no emotions with this matter. But Aegon is not just another; he is his son. He could detect the slight curve of Rhaegar's lips or the tightness of his defined cheekbones and the way his eyes darkened. His father was not pleased.

Jon shook his head while giving Varys a glare. "No, they dare declare war on us?! We have to show that we are not to be played with this affront."

Redwyn cut in. "We must show patience. The reach is gathering more ships right now as we speak."

"That's going to show we are weak and too afraid to act. The rest of Essos will notice and join them. Then we facing more of a challenge!" Jon sharply retorted.

"You rather us being unprepared?" Redwyn countered.

"That's not the point. We should destroy their fleet before they take the seas! They expect us to wait. They are in the advantage and they know it," Jon replied, his face scowling.

"We are not ready. We don't have the ships yet to match them," Redwyn said.

Jon quickly stood from his seat and smashed his finger on the table. "Their ships are nothing to ours, and this is the royal fleet we are discussing."

"I know this. In case you forgot, Connington, I supervise these ships, not you," Redwyn told them.

Jon face turned to an ugly shade of red and before he could reply, Rhaegar spoke, "This is not a small thing to let swell," He said softly. Aegon had a feeling which side he would comply.

Redwyn slanted his eyes to the king."Your grace, this is not wise," He said with a tad bit of frustration.

Rhaegar eyes drifted his eyes to Redwyn and stared him down. Redwyn frowned and dropped his eyes to the polished table, his hands gripping his armrest with tension.

Rhaegar turned his gaze away. "Tyrosh, Lys and Myr do not have the men, and we do. The best course of action is to squash this war before it can mature and save hundreds of lives in the process. I will not let this war be a copy from the previous one," He said with a determined face.

The chorus of agreements was met with his words. Redwyn set his jaw as Jon stared at him with a brief look of triumph. The master of ships avoided his gaze and leaned in his seat. Varys frowned, his long sleeves intertwining to hide his arms. Baelish wore the same damnable smirk on his mid-aged face.

Aegon inwardly grimaced. His father is wise, far more than he, but Aegon has an inkling that his father's recent decision will be horrendous. And the only thing Aegon could do is nod his head with everybody else.

**Rhaenys**

Rhaenys upright in her stool as her mother braided her hair. Elia hummed a cheery tune as she twisted and knit her hair. She looked in the mirror and smiled at her.

"You're glad," Elia stated knowingly, no scorn in her voice.

Rhaenys couldn't help to feel glad and a bit of shame as well. The impending war is going to cost lives, but it provided a selfish relief to the dragon princess. Her father had wanted her to be betrothed with a lord of high status, but Rhaenys is stubborn.

She met many suitors, tall, short, handsome, ugly, kind. Rhaenys shot them down all the same. They never met her standard. She wanted a man, not a softie. Rhaenys wanted a partner who can stand up for her, please her, and a challenger who can meet her fire. The suitors didn't fit the expectation, and so with disgust, she sent them all away. The dragon in her not liking any one of them. If this war is somehow longer than predicted, she can afford more time to stall her father's demand for a husband.

_I am selfish._

She was selfish. A war is going to break out and she was here feeling happy for her on ends. So yes, she is selfish.

But aren't we all?

Rhaenys nodded her head in confirmation, knowing it was useless to lie to her mother who raised her for her lifetime.

Elia shook her head and sighed. "When are you going to settle down, Rhae?"

Rhaenys glared at her mother's reflection in annoyance. "Perhaps I don't need to." Her parent's insistence to marry granted on her normally calm demeanor.

"Yes, you do," Elia said immediately. "Every woman needs a man in her life. It goes for men as well."

"That is not true mother," Rhaenys said with conviction. "Look at grandmother. She is doing fine by herself."

Elia chuckled as she looped a single hair in a knot."That's not going to last for long."

Elia smiled at the frown on her daughter's face. "Don't you see the way she and Oswell look at each other?"

"Mother, Ser Oswell is in the king's guard," Rhaenys said in slight confusion. To her, it can't come to be.

"Your father can dismiss him if Oswell wished," Elia calmly replied. "It is not impossible, Rhae."

"Well, if so I am happy for them," Rhaeyns said tightly. A kingsguard and a queen dowager managed to find something for each other. Why can't she?

"Oh, Rhae," Elia said gently. She stopped braiding her hair and placed a loving hand on her shoulder. "I promise, the right person is out there for you. Rhae, you have to be patient."

"How long can I wait for that man before father ships me away?" Rhaenys responded bitterly. She grounded her teeth.

"I will talk to him," Elia said determinedly. "I assure you that no forced marriage is going to happen for as long as I am breathing."

Rhaenys smiled in the mirror; a mother like hers always lifts up her spirits. "Thank you, mother."

"You're welcome dear," Elia replied warmly and returned to braiding her hair with confident hands.

**Domeric**

Domeric was not happy, far from it. But he placed a bright smile for all can see. The gates opened and the horses heaved and shouts rang true. Domeric spied the proud banner of house Stark and sight did not put his uneasiness away, it only pronounced it.

The folk of the Dreadfort stood at ready in rows. Dresses that sparked the eye, dark tunics that pleased the eye. They were all waiting to hail the warden of the north.

Domeric received a raven only a fortnight ago. It was from Eddard Stark. He had predicted the raven but it still rattled his nerves. The warden became aware of the death of Roose and shortly informed him of his arrival to observe the matter himself.

Domeric shouldn't be worried in the slightest. Within days after killing his father, he formed a lie, to erase the possibility of him founded guilty while also getting rid of his bastard brother. It was truly marvelous. It was too bad he couldn't share this anytime soon lest he wants his head taken off by Eddard's crude Valyrian sword named ice.

He can even see the large sword on the warden's saddle. It didn't show the length of course, but a wandering eye could spot it's over the average sized hilt.

From the corner of his eye, he can see the three Stark children. One of them, most likely the eldest with broad shoulders, stared at him.

Domeric inwardly grinned at the wary look on the man's face.

Eddard's face was the perfect example of stone as he strode in front of Domeric. The new lord of the Dreadfort made sure his smile stretched across his face as he wanted. "Winterfell is yours, my lord," He said as he bowed in respect.

_Let the game began._

…

"I am sorry for your lost, my lord," Eddard said solemnly.

Domeric didn't need to know the history between house Stark and Bolton to know he was not sorry at all. It was only a custom to say these things. He wouldn't put it passed the warden for him to feel happy that his most strained bannerman is laid to rest.

He played along, "Thank you, milord. These are some…unpleasant times around the Dreadfort lately," Domeric said softly, with a façade of someone who was grieving tremendously. It served him well in the past and that won't change now.

Domeric had led the warden into his solar to discuss what had happened. And Domeric took it himself to sit exactly where he killed his father.

"I see," Eddard said with a steely look.

"I am glad you came," Domeric said grimly."The folks were getting quite restless to put the murderer on death. They don't feel safe with him still alive."

Eddard slightly nodded. "I understand your concerns." Then his eyes grew chilly. "Who has done the deed?"

…

The courtyard was silent apart from the ear-piercing screams that haunted the air. It was mid-day and the sun was just on the brink of a set. It was almost dark with a bluish tint on the horizon. Light snow fell, and Ramsay snow is going to fall too.

Domeric tugged his thick furs and looked to his right. "It's alright, my lady." He said gently.

Sansa appeared to not hear him as her eyes were fixed on the execution that was about to take place. Her tall frame shook for a fleeting moment.

Domeric couldn't help the small smile that hung on his lips. Her reaction amused him to no end. She was a lady through and through. A cry from the other Stark to his left caught his attention.

"Stop being such a baby," Arya hissed annoyingly.

"I am not," Sansa countered angrily, glaring at her young sister.

"Yes too!" Arya retorted loudly. "Father forced you to come!"

Domeric almost laughed. Being in the middle of a sibling fight was not expected but was not unwelcomed. It was a change of pace of the dull silence of the Dreadfort.

"Stop this, argue later," Robb snapped from behind them. The two sisters glared at the other then fell into reluctant silence.

Domeric nodded at Robb's apologetic look and returned his attention onward. Two men wearing the stark sigil on their chest plate carried the screaming Ramsay. Eddard watched stonily beside the cutting block with his large Valyrian sword in his grasp.

"I didn't do it!" Ramsay yelled in futile. His plump lips were chapped and curled as he screamed into the air. "Fuck all of you!"

Domeric knew Ramsay didn't do anything; it was part of his scheme. He debated what to do with his brother and then he came up big. He canceled his hunting trip and instead placed Ramsay in a cell, blaming Rooses death on his hands.

Ramsay was roughly placed on his knees while his head dangled from the block. "I didn't do this, you'll piece of shits!" He said, face turning red from anger and fear.

Ramsay's horrid eyes turned on Domeric. "It was him! He killed Roose Bolton, not me!" He frantically inclined his head to the new lord.

Several questioning eyes wheeled on Domeric, but he was ready. "Don't believe the filth that comes out of his mouth, my lords," He said calmly, his words echoing in the courtyard. "He killed my father because he was threatened to be sent to the wall. The bastard stabbed him right in the heart."

The lords and ladies gasped and Ramsay was floored. "Wh-ah-what?!" He sputtered in confusion.

Domeric gave him a look of disdain."I and my father knew about your doings. You and your brand of cunts had hunted down folks with  **hounds**." It was part of the truth. The bastard can't deny that.

Faces grew cold and they gazed at Ramsay with accusation in their hot gazes. For the past moons, there were reports that folks were disappearing and now they knew why.

Spit and sputtering came out of Ramsay's mouth and that nailed his fate. Eddard gloves tightened with tension. "Any last words?" He asked quietly.

His answer came in a bunch, "Don't trust that bitch! I didn't do it I swear!" Ramsay closed his eyes and tears tracked his gaunt cheeks.

"Very well." Eddard lowered his head and whispered a prayer. With that done he brought his sword up and it cleaved through Ramsay's head.

Sansa whimpered and unknowingly thrust her head into Domeric's shoulder. In a good mood, he rubbed her back soothingly with his pale blue eyes on his headless brother's body.

**Jon**

He was more suitable to march into battle and slice through enemies with ease or be on the run from the golden company for being a traitor. It was glorifying for Jon; the rush of adrenaline while he used his superior combat to bring people to his knees, and the fear that can't be hidden in their eyes. They called him the white wolf.

Staring down a dragon is not one of them.

He did it anyway and somehow finding success.

What he is doing right now is bat-shit crazy. This past two years has been bat-shit crazy. He ran away from home, went to the golden company for a couple of years, running from his enormous bounty, sailing to Valyria, and finding a fucking dragon.

 _Don't forget, I found out I am Targaryen._ It was that what Jon is pondering on. He had nothing to say to sway Tyrion.  _I should tell him the truth._  Jon thought. Lying was not his strongest asset, which he got from his fath-uncle. He doesn't think Tyrion will say anything with a couple of dangerous hints here and there.

They were currently in a dark cave of some-short. Jon, with Tyrion and Ghost, had to flee from the cruel and vicious storm that took them by surprise. Sharp rocks and boulders lay around the ground. Scratch marks were on the walls. Also, large, rusty chains were spotted.  _Were…the dragons chained here?_ Jon thought silently. The cave was big enough to even house a grown dragon and still have space for three other people.

The dragon rested by the entrance of the cave, eyeing him. Jon felt a shudder. For the past couple of hours, the dragon has been watching him, not letting up for a minute. And Jon had an inkling that the dragon rested by the entrance for a purpose to not let him go.

"I am still waiting," Tyrion said, persistent. The dwarf propped himself against a rock-bigger-than he-and glanced at him. Ghost curled at Jon's side and yawned silently.

"You know, I can make you wait longer," Jon responded, stretching his sore limps.

Tyrion slanted his eyes, not wanting to see Jon's nudity. "You need to find something to wear."

Jon snorted. "Now, where can I find those magical clothes? If you hadn't noticed," Jon sat up and exaggerates the movements of his arms, "There isn't any."

"There are some clothes on Euron's ship."

"That," Jon said, pointing to the dragon, "Destroyed every single one of them."

Tyrion shook his head and grinned a little. "It destroyed every single one except for the one I was on."

Jon nodded, absently rubbing his bald head. Tyrion watched him. Suddenly, he sprang to his feet and marched over to him.

"Tyrion! What the hell!?" Jon pushed Tyrion's hands from his head and crawled back from the dwarf. Ghost still didn't move, eyes peeled on the stray of hair in Tyrion's grasp.

"Oh…my," Tyrion exclaimed. He held a single dark string of Jon's hair. "When I first saw you, I thought the Greyjoy chopped your hair off." Tyrion rolled the hair over, revealing a burned spot. "But I was wrong."

Tyrion looked up from the hair to stare him down. "You were burned," He said quietly. "You have no hair or clothes because you were  **burned**."

Jon stared agape at the little man, surprised at his detective skills. Seconds passed and Jon's face turned stoic, wondering what the dwarf will say next because his future words may seal his fate.

Tyrion frowned. "You're a Targaryen," He stated as he dropped the string of hair.

Jon retained his placid face, sparing no words. Tyrion narrowed his eyes. "You're a Targaryen that no one knew lived." The dwarf whistled. "Your Lyanna's child."

Jon's face was emotionless.

"Ned stark said that she died with the child." Tyrion rubbed his face, intense eyes observing him. "He lied and took you to Winterfell without the king knowing you're alive. That is treason."

Tyrion waited for Jon to say something, but he didn't utter a word. "I can't imagine how the king will react to you," Tyrion said.

"The king will not know about this,  **ever,** " Jon said, voice low.

Tyrion blinked two times in confusion. "Jon, the king has the right to know about this."

"I don't care. Keep your mouth shut," Jon growled, glaring. The Starks lives are going to be at stake. He has to protect them.

Tyrion shook his head in pity. "Sorry, I can't do that. The king and I are good friends. I won't betray him by keeping this to myself."

"I am sorry also."

Tyrion frowned. "What do yo-"

With a quickness that took the dwarf by surprise, Jon got to his feet and grabbed Tyrion by the throat, pushing his small body against the wall. Tyrion struggled against Jon's strong arms, face turning purple.

"Jon…" Tyrion tried to gasp through Jon's death grip.

"The king must not know about me," Jon snarled. He didn't want to kill Tyrion. He became a friend to him, but the Starks safety comes first.

Tyrion gasped, nodding in yes.

Jon shook him harder.

"Yes!" Tyrion said louder, somehow finding strength in his lungs to yell out.

"Good," Jon said simply. He removed his hands, letting Tyrion slide down the wall to his bottom. "I don't want to kill you, but I will do what I must if it comes down to it."

"Duly noted," Tyrion rasped out, rubbing his red throat.

…

Jon knew the storm had stopped, it had for a while now. Still, the dragon did not move, nor stopping its stare at him. Jon's stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten for hours. Tyrion told him that there suppose to be food in Euron's ship, but the dragon stood in the way. Jon and Tyrion hadn't the courage to move past the ebony dragon or move from their spot. This cowering sent Jon into a silent rage.  _fuck this, I am hungry._

Ghost and Tyrion's heads snapped up when Jon stood abruptly. Jon nodded to them and walked determinedly towards the dragon.

"Jon, what are you doing!?" Tyrion called out anxiously. The dwarf got to his feet but stood where he was.

Jon ignored his call and stood in front of the large dragon, head-held-high,  _I am tired of being a bitch_. He glared at the dragon, "Move!" He said sternly. He didn't know what went through his mind to say that. Perhaps it's the lack of food, the stress of him protecting his family, or perhaps he just wants to go home.

Growling, the dragon snaked its tail around to wrap Jon in a bundle. Ghost barked and snapped, running to where they are.

Jon was brought to the air and on into the dragons back. The beast turned around and lumbered out the cave.  _Oh shit._ Jon pressed his face against the dragon's scales, ignoring the sharp pain it brings. He suddenly…felt lightness…no heaviness to register.

Jon opened his eyes and raised his head.

His eyes widened, and he realized that he was flying. He grinned and shouted as the hot wind slapped against his face. His lilac eyes were shining as he surveyed the islands below them.

After a long drought, a dragon rider hit the skies once more.


	8. The rider and Cannibal

**300 AC**

**Rhaegar**

At its core, running off with Lyanna was an error. He was a young man back then in his young twenties, fresh and vibrant that was only tainted by his gloomy dreams. Prior to him reaching the age of one and ten, he had vague dreams that often left him in bed screaming for his mother. A winter rose on top of a large block of ice. A baby wailing with salt and smoke in the air as the bleeding star streaks by. His younger self didn't understand dismissed it.

It didn't go away.

Rhaegar placed the dreams in the back of his head with thick walls that were hard and unyielding. He couldn't contain it. In his sleep, it leaked out of his walls and penetrated his brain.

Since then, he paid more attention. With that, he had an objective. He pushed his books away and picked up the sword and targeted his utmost best to be the warrior he saw in his dreams.

The intent to save the world from eerie blue eyes.

When he reached adulthood, he realized that he was not the man to keep the monsters at bay, but his son, the song of ice and fire. The problem was that his father was a parasite that would spread his poison across the lands. Rhaegar planned to remove his father from power and take the throne to ready the world for the war of ice. The great tourney of Harrenhall appealed to him. lords from every land seemed like a good opportunity to create a coup and overthrow his mad father.

It didn't go as planned. It was a miscalculation and he paid for it, with the death of his she-wolf. After Lyanna died, the dreams slowly went away and so did Rhaegar's belief in the prophecy.

And here he miscalculated again.

Rhaegar watched passively at the intense battle below him, and his ears ringing from the bells of the city. The black water bay was alive with the clashing of swords and the fire of the arrows as it descended on their enemies. War Ships boarded the shore with bright exotic banners that hurt Rhaegar's eyes. The white, chilly moon brightened the battlefield as death extended its dark tentacles for all.

 _Redwyn was right._ Rhaegar thought with calmness. The war was going so well for Westeros. The royal fleet engaged with Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh for a year with the war tipping in their favor. Victory after victory gathered in folk's ears and they celebrated too early. Then the battle of the stepping stones transpired. Rhaegar was as shocked as everybody else as the aftermath of the battle of the Stepstones was clear; the royal fleet was utterly demolished.

Volantis joined the war against Westeros. Dorne tried to assist but was blown away and their lands were slowly overtaken by the men of Essos.

And the Reach is the only fleet that protects the city of kings landing, but it's too little and too late. The Lannisters sent a raven telling them of their impending arrival but were obviously dragging their feet.

Rhaegar sent his family to take refuge in the Queen's Ballroom to provide shelter from the scrimmages that were taking place. Aegon protested like the dragon of his name, but Rhaegar stood firm, not wanting his heir to perish in this battle.

Rhaegar was donned in armor. The armor was a bit worn but in good condition. It was the same armor he fought in at the battle of the trident. There was a gaping hole where the red rubies used to be and it ruined the polish image of the plate. He could have it replaced, but he wanted to honor Roberts's memory. The man only wanted to save his betrothed that ran off willingly. And Rhaegar had to credit the man for his loyalty and his courage.

"Nock!" Rhaegar yelled. His command rippled through the air and a dozen archers dipped their arrows in fire and aimed in the night sky. "Loose!"

The air whistled with a song of death as the sharp pointy ends made their mark. Hundreds fell upon the ground, but it wasn't enough. Men wearing Targaryen colors were pushed back. The enemy line was pumping with fury and they hunger for blood.

A man rushed to his side, out of breath and said, "Your grace, they are at the gates," The man breathed out, sweat sticking to his brown hair.

Rhaegar is aware of that. Down below, the gates groaned and cracked as the ram thundered against it in a rhythm.

"Your orders, your grace?" The man asked solemnly. He also knew the city was going to fall.

Rhaegar mused to himself as he watched the ram tore apart the gate and then made his thoughts clear, "Contact ser Arthur to evacuate my family from the city."

"Yes, your grace." The man bowed and turned around to carry out his orders. He was stopped short at the form in the sky. Rhaegar stared at the thing in the sky. His face was calm. But his mind was turning on itself. His lilac eyes were on the big dot in the sky that was rapidly growing larger in size.

The air seemed to still as everyone froze at the sound of a loud roar breaking through the thick skies. The water trembled and the men froze in their boots. Weapons were lowered as a dark shadow loomed above them all like an angry cloud that promised death.

**Jon**

_Jon walked confidently through the dense trees in search, his long strides taking up much distance as he got closer. He felt a tug in his mind, and it hinted to his left. Jon looked in that general direction and mulled over on how he should approach this._

_The tug sang louder, and Jon easily pushed it away. Instead of it controlling him, he controlled_ _ **it**_   _on his own will. Before he was captured by the Greyjoy the powerful force had bullied him, even to the extent of possessing his body. But it happened no more. Jon practice and thought about what this tugging means. When he and Tyrion placed it together, they whooped for joy and used Jon's ability to its full capabilities that paid off to unimagined heights._

_Jon could track Valyrian steel._

_That's why he was here right now on this particular island to find that steel. Jon found numerous steels, daggers, swords, axes, hammers. He has it all in a collection. To Tyrion's dismay, the two never found Bright roar or his uncle. Tyrion assumed his uncle was lost in the deep seas and gave up on the notion that the Lannister ancient sword could ever be found. Jon never gave up and kept searching._

_Jon crouched and listened, following the line where the tugging was pointing at and walked forward. Through the wilderness, he pushed leaves and bushes out of the way as he went to the unknown._

_Jon hand crept to his back and gripped his valyrian axe with expertness and inched closer to where the trees hid in sight. Whatever Jon was feeling was there. He switched his stance and approached warily. By instinct, he opened his mind and stretched his conscious wide. The island was barren. The only thing he could sense was Tyrion's and Ghost presence on the ship and the mass of death that flew over the island. The dragon responded to his mental prodding and sent a prod with one of his own through their bond._

_Jon relaxed, shook his head and smiled. He better hurry up because Cannibal was getting impatient._

_Jon placed his axe on his back and walked to the green bushes. He swept them aside and grinned at the sight before him._

_A large red box lay with a dirty and rusty lock holding it together. Jon huffed and slashed at the lock with his axe. There was a loud clank and the lock parted with ease. Jon knelt down on one knee and opened the container with eagerness._

_Jon coughed and waved the dust from his purple eyes and peered down inside. His gloved hand grasped, not a sword, but a full set of armor._

_The Targaryen gasped. This was unique, entirely different from the collection of the armor he currently owned._

_Along the shoulder of the armor was a brown thick line of fur, comfy enough for Jon to press it against his pale cheek. Black sharp spikes hanged on the forearms with flame designs decorated beautifully on its scales. The armor was covered ornaments such as white skulls. To add to its imposing appearance there was an onyx colored helmet. It had two openings, for the mouth, and for the eyes where it was in slits._

_Jon blinked in surprise. He never came across an armor of this quality. He looked to the armor he was wearing and snorted in disgust; it looked like a worn hand me down armor in comparison to the one he just discovered._

_Jon dug his hand to the bottom of the chest to feel the cool surface of the metal. It was a coin, or he figured it as such. It was the color of gold with its shape like a tooth; a very sharp one at that. On its front was the snarling face of a dragon._

Jon heard about the upcoming attack of kingslanding. When he touched landed back in Essos, he found the information himself. In Braavos, there was no talk about its rulers wanting to join the war. They deemed it useless and doomed from the start. Tyrion and he were surprised like no other when they heard the news of Volantis supporting the war against Westeros and the destruction of the royal fleet.

Jon needed no encouragement to help the city. He left Tyrion in a whore house in Braavos and hoped on top of Cannibal and began the long flight to Kingslanding to ward off the siege.

With Jon were bags upon bags strapped to the dragons long black scales. In it was items that he had discovered from the harsh islands of Valyria. Ghost was sullen in silence as his large body was too strapped. Jon gave the direwolf a thin smile. He knew his wolf wasn't a fan of flying. But Ghost was not a fan of being apart from his master and so came along with.

The silent night was broken by the loose roar of Cannibal. Jon could feel its excitement and hunger for blood through their bond. A year in Valyria exposed the ability that Jon was not aware of.

Warging.

Jon had restless dreams that involved having another body, to a point he realized the dreams he had was with Ghost. Testing this to prove he was right, he used Ghost to prowl around one of the islands and to see himself slumped with ruby eyes.

It was…not counted for him to be able to warg into Cannibal as well; he can even call it as a coincidence. When he was flying with the dragon, a dark creature shot out of the waters. Jon didn't know what it was, but he just wanted to get away from it. Jon was hit in the head by an unknown object to awaken with razor sharp eyes and a noise that was ten times stronger than a direwolfs. He watched as his body falling to the dark waters below and plunged for it. And the next thing he knew, he has awoken in his own body once more.

Jon practiced the method of warging with Cannibal after that. The task seemed stressful as the dragon was stubborn for anyone to access his mind. With moons, the dragon gradually eased into Jon's warging and Jon was able to fully use the great beast power.

 _We are here._ Jon thought as Cannibal let loose another roar. A dozen warships of different kinds barricaded around the black water bay. Small boats were being rowed as hundreds of hired sellswords rushed to shore. Jon spied a battering ram hammering away at the closed gates. By its state, Jon knew it wouldn't last long from the onslaught.

Jon narrowed his eyes as shouts of fear reached Cannibal's ears. He is going to make them pay for attempting to harm his family; a family that doesn't know of him but still his family regardless.

"Dracarys!" Jon shouted at the top of his lungs, mentally prodding Cannibal's line of sight to a pair of ships nearest.

A bright green flame shined against the dark sky as it rushed to meet the vessels. The two ships were instantly destroyed. The fire was so hot the water rose like a giant wave and sunken three more ships under the heavy waters.

Cannibal flew through the air swiftly and came for another course. Another ship was flamed to oblivion and Jon felt the grin forming on his lips. Power, superiority, and blood lust filled his emotions. These sensations were not his own but his dragons. Still, he can't deny that he had no association with these dark feelings.

A warship turned towards them. A scorpion was aimed and shot. Jon saw this a mile away and Cannibal twisted in a roll, evading the bolt and frying the ship to the hottest hell.

Arrows were shot up in the air with no precision. The men were panicking. Cannibal didn't bother itself by shying away from the arrows, because it all bounced off its hardened scales. The rest were simply not fast enough to hit the fast dragon, meeting only air.

From blast to blast, fire to fire, flame to flame, the ships were all gone with the wreckage on full display. Ships tried to flee, to be only burned alive on Jon's orders; they didn't deserve mercy.

Cannibal floated mid in the air and roared, the shock-wave making the waters ripple like a pebble in a pond. The dragon turned its sight to the shore to see men shaking in fear; forgetting the battering ram as they gazed at the dragon with disbelief.

Jon urged the dragon to not blaze them; only dropping him off, he waited long enough. And Cannibal had its fun now it's his turn. Jon reached his hand to one of his sacks to pick out a weapon of his choice. He was picky this time, enjoying the different kinds of styles he could pick. But there are so many. He settled for two long valyrian swords. He gave them a quick twirl and nodded.

Cannibal dropped near the shore and Jon nimbly leaped out. He absorbed the impact with his knees and rolled until he was on his feet. Instantly, the frighten sellswords surrounded him. Their poorly restrained fear shook their bodies as they held their weapons at him.

Jon could tell he was an imposing height. First, he was tall and lean with his dark valyrian armor that outshines their men's best. His ebony helmet hid his face and it was too dark to see his amethyst eyes that glared at them darkly.

"Kill him!" A man shouted. "he is only one man!" At once four men rushed towards Jon.

Jon grinned as he twirled the two valyrian swords in his hands. He lowered into a low stance and cut through the first man in his midsection. He then pivoted and kicked the second man with his armored boot. The man's head cracked and was sent to the ground. Jon front rolled and plunged one of his swords in somebody's throat as the other one slashed horizontally across another one belly; spilling guts on the floor as the man gaped in shock.

Again he swirled his swords. Jon inclined his head to the dead bodies "You should leave now!" He said this to increase their chances of abandoned this fight; he had no intention of letting a single one escape. Their death was as certain as soon as they left Essos.

His words were not acknowledged as hoards of men charged at him. Jon used the deadly advantage of his two sharp swords to engage two men at a time. With grace and with the speed, his swords were singing for flesh.

Jon parried and quickly cut down a small man and leaned his head as a shield hit empty air where he might have lost his head. Jon one-handed cut through the shield like it was nothing but butter and splattered the sellswords head.

Jon jumped slightly and bumped his knee plate to a man's chin. He used the man's distraction at the pain and cut him down. There was the blast of fire as Cannibal joined the battle on the shore. The black dragon did a couple of rounds from the air.

The world was burning.

The fierce flame blackened the ground and burned the men. Smoke swirled around Jon like it was his camouflage.

Jon was focused and used all different types of forms as he continued his slaughter. This fight was supposed to be impossible. A single man was wrecking the formation of an entire army. But Jon didn't let this enter his mind as he contained his confidence and cold ruthlessness as he thumped a man on the head with the pommel his sword.

Power filled Jon's hands as he deflected the swords from his course. A few men even impaled their own comrades as they desperately slashed their swords for a hit on him. The men were afraid and that increased the bodies that fell when it shouldn't have. Because of his foreign armor and his two deadly swords, the sellswords were not ready for the threat they never faced before.

A sword caught him in the shoulder plate; Jon hardly felt it. His armor was scaled enough that normal swords would have the toughest time piercing it. The armor was also strangely light. Jon barely felt its weightiness for it felt like he was wearing the lightest of silks. The armors skulls rattled a death tune as Jon went on a rampage.

Jon snarled and grabbed the offender by the shoulder and twisted him around where Jon used to be just as a sword slashed. The man stared in shock as instead of him striking his enemy down, he killed his own comrade. Jon pushed the dead man towards him, making the man stubble. And Jon used this time to slash his head off.

Jon turned and blocked a strike with his swords forming in an x as he pushed the blade away and sliced underneath. Both of the man's legs were separated from his body, and Jon ended the screaming with a swipe of his sword.

Twenty, thirty, forty, Jon didn't keep track of the men that died at his gloved hands. With Cannibals fire backing up Jon's offense, the sellswords seemingly large number slowly ebbed away with each hard swing of his swords.

Jon never engaged the men up front. That was suicide even with the incredible assets he had. While he parried and deflected, he carried the battle to the murky waters where  **he** had the advantage.

From the days of evading and fighting the dark creatures of Valyria, he had the case of having unusual high stamina and nigh high speed. With this, he skittered and danced on the waters that reached his knees. His armor never once weighed him down, but his opponent's armor did. They struggled and splashed in the cold waters as their plates made it difficult to adjust to the environment. Jon moved like a shadow as the sellswords were too slow to parry his savage blows. His shifty and fast movement made his form flawless as the men were left to bleed out in the waters because their limitations hindered them.

Jon killed another dozen men before he felt his energy fade away as he became weary. His once lethal strikes drifted to the more sluggish type as fatigue caught up with him and spikes and spears slipped past his guard when it didn't before.

His helmet rattled painfully as the side of a spear connected with his head protection. A sharp punch hit his chest and the man screamed in agony as he held his broken knuckles before Jon smashed his head open with his elbow. Jon was pushed to the water with a smack and was ganged on as swords bounced off his armor. He did a leg sweep and got back to his feet.

Jon locked blades with another and pushed away and swung both of his swords with a roar. The man's sword shattered into bits as his life ended before he could marvel at such.

Cannibal glided over to him and blasted at the group of fighters that stood with Jon. The dark waters boiled with a vengeance as the men yelled in pain as their skin peeled off their bodies.

Jon took lumbering breaths as his dragon drawled a line of green fire that cut off any men that can approach him. Jon eyed the gates as it opened. Men wearing the Targaryen sigils joined the fray. They screamed and started cutting down sellswords

 _Pussies._ Jon thought with amusement. They finally grew a pair of balls when they realized his dragon was burning the enemies to the crisp and jumped at the chance to pick up the leftovers. _Greedy cunts._

Jon hung back behind the wall of flames as he let the battle rage without him. Cannibal landed heavily beside him and watched too; an arm crunching on its teeth brutally, green eyes wild with hunger.

Jon soothed the dragon through their bond. It was actually calm comparing this dragon to its past self. Jon knew the dragon used to be crazed in one of the history books he skimmed through in Winterfell. His dragon was still dangerous on a loose chain if Jon wasn't paying close attention to its emotions. At times, Jon struggled to try to rein in Cannibal from destroying everything in its wake, while other times the dragon is almost friendly.

After an hour of nonstop clashing, the swords were finally put to rest. The Targaryen army cheered. Although it was somewhat subdued as nervous eyes turned to Jon and the monstrous beast that draped the whole shore. Whispers and hand pointing, the men started asking questions.

Jon's heart stopped as his eyes landed on the figure that was in the middle of it all.

The man was his real father.

Rhaegar eyed him through the dense flames. His face was guarded and placid as he observed him with his silvery hair tied in a knot. His armor is decent but plain to Jon's own.

Jon and his father stared at one another, both captured by the other. Jon was grateful for his helmet that hid his features and his lilac eyes. He was not positive that the stinging of his eyes was from the sweat.

Rhaegar stepped around a small flame and started walking towards him. Jon promptly turned around and walked briskly to Cannibal, a choke in his throat as he hurried to his dragon before the king can reach him.

The dragon lowered its shoulder and Jon climbed aboard. It was its roar that started many as they flew to the dark skies. All the while Jon feeling a pair of sad purple eyes squarely on him.

Jon relaxed in his saddle and removed his helmet, his thick hair dancing as he shook his head. He looked behind him to Ghost. The direwolf stared disapprovingly at him.  _He definitely enjoyed the ride._  Jon thought sarcastically. He laughed a little and rubbed Ghost behind his ears.

Jon put the swords back in their assigned sacks and grimaced, sore at the endless battle he just participated in. He tenderly removed the plates of armor and tucked it in a bag and placed a simple tunic on.

Jon shut his eyes together as a wave of sadness burned against his eyelids. And his head fell against the hard scales of his dragon.

He just came face to face with his father. His real father and he couldn't even say he was his son.

Jon growled as resentment at his uncle grew. For the first fourteen years of his life, he lived as a bastard instead of a prince. Ned stark lied to his face about his mother and because of this asshole his immediate family doesn't know who he was and it will stay that way to his death. Just so he can protect his cousin's happiness. Ned Stark better be grateful that he was not the person who doesn't care about the people who were raised alongside him. His loyalty to the Starks was that strong, not once hindered by the three years he had been gone.

Jon's face was set in a scowl. He was going to force Ned to say the words himself. It was shameful that a crazed Greyjoy told him of his parentage before his uncle could.

He was going to demand what is rightfully his, an explanation on why Ned took him from his real family.

Cannibal roared in reaction to Jon's anger as the night sky concealed the dragon's ebony frame as they silently flew through the soft and puffy clouds.

**Rhaenys**

She could smell the fear that dwelled in the room. The boys and girls silently cried as they heard the distinctive roar of a monster of some sort. Everyone was pale and rigid with fear. Rhaenys could even detect the distant smell of piss. Judging by the downcast look of one man it has to be him.

The four kingsguard took their stand next to the barred door with their grasp tight on their swords, wary eyes communicating with one another. Ser Loras ground his jaw as he paced by the door. The only thing out of place was the absence of Ser Barristan, who went alongside Dany to the gloomy castle of DragonStone.

Elia paled as there was another roar that shook the red keep. Her mother placed a trembling hand on Rhaenys's own while the other touched Aegon's. Rhaenys returned the affection with a thin smile. Aegon gave their mother the same small then quickly turned his intense eyes back on the sealed door, his arms fiddling with his garment.

The Queens Ballroom was filled with tension as there were drums of feat that approached from the other side. of the door. The king's guard and Aegon took out their weapons as they eyed the handle with wary looks.

There was a knock. "Open the door." Rhaenys relaxed as she recognized the soft voice of her father. The kingsguard eased their swords and Arthur unlocked the latches and swung the door open

Rhaenys jumped from her seat and launched herself into her father's armor, completely ignoring the audience. Rhaegar smiled and kissed the crown of her head. "Hello, my little dragon."

Aegon stood up. "Father! What happened?!" He said in a rush. And his words were acknowledged by the nods that were sent in his direction.

"The battle is over," Rhaegar said without preamble. "We have won."

There was a chorus of cheers and laughter. But Rhaenys was not the one to be deterred. "What was that out there?" She said quietly. She couldn't conceal the fear in her dornish accent.

Heads turned to the king. Rhaegar stared far away to the unknown. "A dragon," He said softly. "A large one."

"A dragon!?" Aegon and Elia yelled at the same time. Shouts of denial and fear were silence by the wave of the Queen's delicate hand.

Rhaegar turned back to them, his eyes holding something Rhaenys couldn't understand. "Yes, a dragon. And somebody was riding it."

**Westeros**

The talk of the dragon and its rider spread through the world like the beasts green flame. Many contemplated the mysterious man that controlled it. And on how he managed to ride the dragon or how he managed to adopt the fabulous alien armor that strikes fear into the hearts of many. Songs about the rider involved on his legendary skills with his valyrian steel swords and how he killed a horde of men himself.

There were also talks about the rebirth of the dragons. Instead of running to a dead end like the rider, the citadel gave a stunning conclusion about the identity of the deadly dragon.

Big enough to shadow the red keep, wild enough to eat a dozen of helpless men, with deep black scales dark as the night with gold eyes and its green pupils.

It was the dangerous Cannibal, one of the wild dragons that went missing after the dance.

Theories and ideas flew back in fort venomously. Even the citadel was clueless as to where the dragon came from after all these years out of sight.

Ravens continue to flow as the king demanded the whereabouts of the rider and its dragon. With the promise of gold, a dozen pretenders strolled to the throne room and claimed that they were the rider. The king saw through these lies and sent the ones with the false claims to freeze at the wall. With that, lies stilled but the warrior never showed up and there were no more sightings of the dark dragon.

The news exploded as Tyrion Lannister returns from his voyage from the old city of valyria with no surviving crew members from the expedition. The dwarf was met with eager questions as the Lannister revealed his weapons and gold he had found in the ruins. Tyrion evaded these questions and there was even a rumor that Tywin Lannister asked his son himself to no avail. People drew connections to the weapons that the imp brought to the swords the rider used to dispatch his foes. And there started the accusations that he was in a league with the rider. Tyrion never answered and fell strangely quiet.

A few days later, Westeros became aware of the arrival of the white wolf of Essos, Jon Snow.

Immediately there were pleas for the bastards head for the crimes he committed and the innocent blood he spilled. As expected, Eddard stark went in his defense and explained that whatever Snow did, it was in  **Essos,** not in Westeros and the execution of Jon Snow was a violation against the law. Jon Snow backed up with his sayings that the rumors about him were untrue as people just spit at him with jealousy of his combat prowess. Lords were instantly skeptical and didn't believe him for a second. The king spoke nothing of the bastard and the issue of the 17 years old actions were put away but not ever forgotten as his reputation was that strong.

From the king, repairs to Harrenhall was almost complete and comes with it was the upcoming grand tourney once more and every land was expected to be there to show their loyalty to the king of the andels.

Nobody spoke. But the worry was in their minds. The approaching event has the intent to heal old wounds but there was a hidden danger lurking that the plan was going to backfire and tourney would reopen the scars.

Only time can tell.


	9. Home

**Jon Snow**

"Stay low Robb!" Ser Rodrik shouted.

Jon grinned as Robb stumbled into the ground. Robb got back to his feet and slashed his wooden sword at him and followed up with several as well. Blocking his onslaught with no effort, Jon drilled Robb to the ground for the third time.

"Stay low!" Rodrik yelled again, a bit lesser in tone.

Robb glared as he jumped to his feet and lowered his trunk to make use of his shorter height to cripple Jon's tall frame. To Jon's delight when he finally returned to Winterfell, he now stood over Robb by two inches. In addition to his added tallness, he was quick on his feet, to the point he was too quick to the spectators.

"Trust me, I'm trying!" Robb retorted. He glared at Jon and used his broad shoulders to barge into Jon. Jon sidestepped and kicked his arse to the ground, making Robb huff in the snow in frustration.

"Stay low," Rodrik said. "Please?"

In the background, the Starks with the rest of the folks watched the spar with amazement and fear. The heir of Winterfell, one of the top renowned fighters in the north, was being made a fool of. On the balcony, Ned Stark and his wife watched with interest.

"Yes!" Arya cheered with Rickon. "Beat his ass, Jon!" She was sharply silenced by Catelyn's reprimand and by Sansa's glare.

Jon eyed the crowd with amusement. "You have more fans than I do, Robb."

Robb slowly got to his feet. "What did you think? I am the future warden of the north."

"Being the future warden of the north won't spare you from me embarrassing you."

Robb brought his sword to his face. "I'm not done yet."

Jon waited as Robb rushed towards him then locked blades. He skillfully knocked Robb's sword out of his hands and held his sword to his neck.

"Do you Yield?" Jon commanded.

Robb glanced at the wooden sword and groaned. "Aye, I yield."

Jon grinned and stepped back. While the Starks clapped politely, the rest clapped with reluctance, not finding the joy that a bastard bested the future ruler of the north.

Rodrik approached Jon. "That was some good footwork, Jon. Keep this up and the spot on the kingsguard will be wide open for you."

"Thank you, Ser" Jon replied, though he had no wish to do so. Not after discovering what he was and what he is capable of. His talents would be wasted.

The courtyard slowly departed as Jon and Robb went over to place the wooden swords back to where they belong on the rack. As Jon discarded the sword, a blur of brown and red was seen in his peripheral vision. Arya, Rickon, and Bran tackled Jon to the ground, with each firing out questions at him to see who can confuse him the fastest.

Alys karstark kissed Robb on the cheek and stood with him as they watched the scene with amusement.

Jon raised his hand and the unintelligent words ceased at last. "Hey, hey, slow down. One at a time."

The three Starks glanced at each other questionably to see who is going to be first until Bran spoke first.

"That was cool, Jon!"

"Can you teach me!?" Rickon asked.

Jon looked at the red-head in confusion. "Ser Rodrik is teaching you. You already have a teacher waiting.

Rickon frowned in concentration as he searched for his meaning with difficulty. "I don't think he is better than you, brother. You're the best Jon," He said as he looked at Jon with those adorable blue eyes.

Jon's smile was genuine as he ruffled Rickon's hair. "I know." It was easy for Jon to agree with the young Starks opinion. He is confident that he surpassed the master at arms skill with the sword.

"Did the Golden Company get you this good?" Arya asked eagerly but instantly shut her mouth at Jon's dark look.

Jon nodded stiffly. "It had a part in it." And that was the end of the subject.

For the three days since he returned the Starks didn't ask him what he has done to deserve all the crazy rumors about him but  **demanded** them quite persistently. Jon had told them to leave it be and they stopped, only for them to ask the same question the day after, though Jon would not budge.

Jon had no ounce of desire to discuss his time away. It was for the best form him and the Starks.

Suddenly the three gripped him harder. "We missed you, Jon," Arya said in his tunic. "You should have never left."

Jon's heart immediately melted a million times over.  _How could I ever think that I didn't belong here?_ Jon felt tears as he hugged his cousins just as furiously.  _I'm going to protect them, always._

Jon felt he was being watched and drifted his eyes up to the balcony. Lady Stark stared at him coldly and by instinct Jon's eyes shifted to Ned. The warden's eyes were warm as he gave him a smile. Jon purple eyes turned hard as he looked away, ignoring the hurt that he saw in his uncle's eyes.

Jon tip-toed around his uncle for a couple of days and the man never knew why. Jon knew his uncle was confused about his behavior and Jon doesn't give a flying fuck. He wanted his uncle to ponder why he was acting like this and figure it out.

Plus, Jon found his inner joy at seeing him squirm.

It was only a matter of time when Jon is going to confront his uncle about his parentage and he is going to force it out no matter the consequences. His blood always boiled when he was reminded that he was taken from his family but he kept his calm. Cannibal would sense his anger through their bond and will blast the whole north into a wasteland if he didn't remain stable.

Jon calmed his breathing and stretched his awareness out in the open and mentally brushed against the dragon's mind. Cannibal was fine. Jon relaxed his mind and canceled his warging. Before he came to Winterfell he sent his dragon away with his belongings still on its back and hoped the dragon would stay out of sight. Whenever Jon felt Cannibal approaching he ordered him away. The beast often felt annoyed but compiled nonetheless and flew off to hunt.

"Jon!" Robb shouted in his ear.

Jon started in shock and his cousins laughed. "What?" Jon asked a tad annoyed that he rudely interrupted his musings.

Robb crossed his muscled arms as Jon shrugged off his cousin's embracement and stood on his feet. "You were clearly out of it. We've been calling your name several times now."

"Then you yelled in my ear," Jon said.

Robb nodded with a grin. "Then I yelled in your ear," He clarified.

"I'm going to help you stop brooding," Robb added.

Jon's neck snapped as he glared at the Stark. "What did you say?" He does not  **brood.** He thinks a lot but never that.

The bystanders soon began to laugh. "I'm going to help you-"

"I heard you. Why would you do that? I don't brood," Jon said.

"Yes you do, Jon!" Was the quick answer from everybody. Jon glanced at Arya to see that she slyly hid her face from him.  _She turned on me, that little traitor._

Alys chuckled and slapped Robb's right arm. "Stop it, Robb. Leave him alone."

Robb slyly rubbed his sore arm as he continued to look at Jon. "It is my duty to help my brooding brother." Robb shook his head. "I swear, Jon, you need to get laid."

"I've slept with a woman before," Jon retorted, scowling as his cousins laughed harder.  _What kind of question is that?!_

Robb's smile was so fucking obnoxious that Jon wished that he can stomp his fucking boot on it. "Who said that you never got laid? I was implying that you just need one right now. Tell me this brother, when was the last time you've been with a woman?"

Jon scrunched his face as he tried to recall, and everybody's amusement grew. He wasn't lying that he got laid before it was just a long time ago since then. Jon didn't have the time or the means to do so with running from the Golden Company and the trip to Valyria, but they didn't need to know about that.

Finally, Jon simply shrugged. "I have forgotten."

Robb widens his arms out. "Then it's time for you to remember. It will change your mood drastically."

Jon turned his face out of sight so nobody can see his grin. He found himself less guarded around his cousins and felt his tough barricades slipping and he is more laid back than what he had been for years. It was refreshing to say at least.

"Well, you need to change your mood right now, Robb because you're pissing me off," Jon said as he glanced at Alys and back to Robb.

Robb actually blushed.

…

The dining table was quiet as Jon ate supper with his cousins. Using forks and knives felt surreal to him. It has been a while. Jon and Tyrion didn't encounter anything reassembling to a fork so they used their hands (Ghost was entirely indifferent). So he was a tad clumsy trying to get the gist of it while hiding this effort from everybody else. But by the knowing look in his uncle's eyes, he knew and Jon was relieved that he didn't point it out.

Jon sat between Robb and Arya as he tore a piece of chicken and stuffed it in his mouth. As Jon was chewing his food, he saw a gleam in Arya's dark eyes. He swallowed and watched how this is going to play out.

Arya grabbed her spoon and scooped a large amount of food that was more than necessary and flicked it at Sansa. Jon smiled a little at Sansa's high pitch squeals as lady Stark fretted over her. Robb shared a smile between Jon and Theon while the rest watched in silence.

"Arya, why would you do this to your sister?" Ned asked. However, Jon could see humor hiding in his grey eyes.

Arya shrugged and grabbed a roll off a plate. "She was being stupid. She is pretending that Jon is not here. She only said one word to him and that was 'hello."

While Jon didn't approve of Arya's crude methods, he still felt the appreciation of her protecting him. He dearly loved his cousins to death and this only increased his resolve for them to remain happy.

Ned was not letting her off the hook. "This cannot be without a punishment young lady."

Arya was not the one to be intimidated. "What is it going to be, father?" The young Starks looked at Ned with a sense of forbidden as he mused to himself.

"You are going to bed early." Everybody gasped in shock.

"Father!" Sansa protested. "She deserves more than that! she ruined my dress!" She explained as she pointed to her dirty clothing.

Ned gave a pointed look to Arya. "Go, Arya." He then looked at the red-faced Sansa. "You can have an entire day off from your lessons to sew another dress."

Arya nodded and happily left after saying goodnight to Jon. And he knew as well as she that Ned was going easy on her. The worst-case scenario was if she wasn't allowed to train with the rest of the boys in the courtyard for a fortnight. It was a no brainer that she was all too happy to escape this.

Jon got bored and when he got bored he usually does things that would paint him in a weird light. "How is your nose, Theon?" Jon asked casually, randomly, not fully comprehending on what he said.

"Jon!" Ned scolded and quickly shushed the laughter that his cousins gave.

Theon glared at Jon while dropping his fork on his plate and left the room with a strange gait, muttering softly.

Jon now realized what he said and shrugged. "My bad, it just slipped out of my mouth."

"Even so that was not the nicest thing to say. That happened years ago," Ned said solemnly.

Years ago when he left were the missing words that hung in the air.

Jon nodded and said no further words. He went back to eating his food.

…

The air was thick with dust as Jon walked through the crypts where the Starks from the past rested in peace. Without any shame, he walked past the statues because it was not his destination.

Jon finally stopped and held the burning torch to one of the statues, careful to not light anything on fire. It was a woman that was made from stone with a small winter rose in her cupped hands.

The sculpture didn't do this women justice. This woman was told to be a great beauty to even sway king Rhaegar from his faithfulness to the queen. The story was known.

Though Jon looked up at the statue with hearts bare in his eyes as with tears. This was his mother. He slowly touched her cheek and rubbed it with the utmost care.

"Hello mother," Jon greeted, his hands still in place.

"I finally came home. And this time I found out what I really am," Jon said shakily. "And I found out who you were really were, not as my aunt but as my mother."

"I should be glad that I finally know who birthed me. But I just feel empty. When I didn't know who you were to me I was reassured by the fact that my mother could still be alive out there, that went away pretty quickly." Jon chuckled.

"But you're not alive. I dearly wished otherwise so you can raise me yourself and I could have a real mother. Though, life is not fair mother, not to you nor to me."

Jon picked up the winter rose and smiled. "Are you proud of me, mother? Of what I did or what I am? I don't think you are. If you were here I don't think I would dare leave Westeros without your permission. And the things I have done wouldn't have come to pass."

Jon took a deep breath. "I just don't know what to do mother. I want to let my father know who I am but at the same time, I want to protect your side of the family. Uncle did the thing nobody expected and I paid for it. And I don't know why he took me away.

Jon laughed and got rid of his tears. "I'm an asshole. I shouldn't be bothering you about my problems, and I should let you rest."

Jon dropped the rose back to her hands and cupped her cheek with both of his hands. "The reason I came here was to tell you that I love you, mother."

"Jon?"

Jon twirled around with panic to see Ned standing a few feet from him with a blank expression. The two stood there, staring into each other's eyes, both thinking the same thing as the other.

"Why?" Jon asked quietly. He knew that his uncle heard him talking to his mother's statue. There was no use beating around the bush.

Ned looked at him for the longest moment. "How did you figure it out?"

Jon glared at him, hurt and pain almost drowning his sense of hearing. "Of course you want to know that. You could have never guessed that a fucking Greyjoy will tell me who I am while he took his god damn time torturing me."

"Balon tortured you?!" Ned asked angrily.

"No, the other one that got banished."

"Why did he tort-"

"That does not matter," Jon interrupted. The Greyjoy was dead and gone. "Why?" Jon asked again.

Ned fell silent again.

"WHY!?" Jon shouted in the dead silent crypts. The stony faces seemed sad as they watched the confrontation between the men.

Through the bond, Cannibal roared furiously. Jon calmed down and waited for his uncle to reply.

Ned gazed at him with sadness. Jon came to realize how old and weary he looked.  _Perhaps all the lies he told is finally eating his ass._

"I'm sorry, Jon," Ned said.

"Everybody keeps saying sorry to me. This is getting ridiculous now. I don't want apologies I want answers."

Ned sighed tiredly. "I…Robert's rebellion took everything from me, Jon. My father, my brother and my best friend. The forces we had rallied were not enough to match the Targaryens and therefore I had to marry one of the Tully girls."

"Lady Stark," Jon stated.

Ned nodded. "By doing so I couldn't marry the women I loved, Ashara Dayne. I promised that I would marry her but the war changed that and I didn't see her since," Ned explained with strain. "When I saw your mother in a pool of blood and you wrapped in the Targaryen colors I was angry…so angry. I blamed all of my misfortune on Rhaegar and I wanted to hurt him so I took you to Winterfell and claimed you as my bastard son."

Jon's hair concealed his face so his uncle couldn't see a pure rage. "You think that was a good reason why you took me from my father?"

"No," Ned responded. "Nothing will. I've always regretted my choice but it was too late to change it."

"Do you know what this means to me?" Jon asked. "I have a father that only knows me as a mindless murder. I have an entire family that I want to know. BUT I CANT DO THAT BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"You don't know how sor-"

"SHUT UP!" Jon yelled. Tears clouded his vision. And he feared that he would do something rather reckless.

Ned nodded slowly. "Do you want to hit me?"

"Yes," Jon quickly replied.

Ned took a step forward, and Jon wasted no time to punch him right in the gut. His uncle flinched but never said a word as Jon went bonkers on his stomach.

Ned collapsed to the ground, a soft gasp leaving his lips. Jon towered over him, his anger and rage still clung to him like an addicting drug. And he wants to make his uncle to share the pain he was dealing with.

Ned looked up at him with care. "Do you want to keep hitting me? Hit me as much as you like. You have a good reason why to do so"

This man makes Jon have his emotions in disarray like no other. His actions years ago make Jon want to burn him with Cannibal or let Ghost eat his flesh. Today he shows the care for his being like any other time even when Jon just bashed his ass off. His uncle baffles him.

_What the fuck is wrong with me!?_ Instead of punching Ned, he took his anger and frustration on the wall next to Lyanna statue. Jon didn't pull his punches as he dented his fist. Blood emerged from his knuckles but he kept going.

Ned sat there having a mixed feeling of confusion and horror until he ran to Jon's side and grabbed his fist. "That's enough! go see Luw-"

"Don't touch me," Jon growled as he pushed Ned to the floor. Jon walked passed him and left the crypts.

**Robb**

He and Theon walked through the halls of Winterfell with Greywind at his side.

"Where is Jon?" Robb asked.

Theon didn't even look at him as he answered. "Don't know, don't care."

The anger and disdain were easy to hear in Theon's voice. Robb didn't like the small conflict between him and Jon. They were both his brothers, and he just wants them to be civil around each other. Robb could never have the two together without them trading insults at the other. Jon just came back and Robb was not planning for him to go anytime soon. He belongs at his side as a brother. Theon is not going to stay in Winterfell forever and Robb knows this to be true. Robb wants to part ways with Theon as a brother in all but name.

"Why don't you try to at least be friendly with him?" Robb asked. "I'm tired of having you two argue all the time."

"Tell him that," Theon replied.

Robb stopped walking and that made Theon stop as well. "You have been the main one starting the arguments, don't lie to me."

Theon scowled. "Don't you remember what he said at supper?" He said. "Did I start that?"

Robb recalled that very well. "Yes, but he broke your nose years ago, Theon. Let the past go."

Theon snorted. "The bastard sure didn't."

Robb pointed a finger at him. "Don't call him that."

"That's what he is."

"Is that why he broke your nose? Did you call him a bastard? Jon doesn't start a fight without a good explanation of why."

Robb inwardly nodded at Theon's silence. Robb and his siblings found Theon in the morn with a broken nose and a parchment on his chest. His father came then and woken the Greyjoy and asked what happened. Theon quickly said that Jon randomly punched him after he merely asked what was wrong with him. His father took the parchment and asked Robb to find Jon. And that was the day they found out that his brother left.

Theon fumed as he walked away. Robb sighed and looked at Greywind. "Those two are impossible aren't they?"

Greywind tilted his head and rolled his tongue. Robb smiled and rubbed his head as he and his direwolf went to the Godswood.

As Robb entered the solitary place, he spotted a lonesome figure on a tree branch with his head down.

It was Jon with Ghost at his side.

Robb smiled in relief. He regularly had a fear that his brother will leave again and this time for good. Jon and father have been on edge with one another lately. Robb wanted to end soon.

"I've been looking everywhere for you broody," Robb jested as he approached Jon. Ghost and Grey wind greeted the other by playfully wrestling in the snow.

Robb frowned as Jon kept his head low and his poster stiff. "Jon, are you okay?"

His eyes then caught the bloody mess that was his hands. "Shit! You have to see the maester!" he said as he grabbed Jon's hands.

Jon pulled his hand back but didn't say anything back, nor did he move.

Robb kneeled in front of him as he tried to peer at his brother's face through the mass of curls. "What happened, brother?"

"Please…" Jon started. "Don't call me that."

"What?" Robb asked.

Jon then looked up, his purple eyes teary. "Brother," He said stoically. "Don't call me brother."

"Nonsense, what are you talking about?" Robb said in a loud voice. The two direwolf ended their teasing to watch their masters carefully. "You've been my brother since we were born. Did your time away change that?"

"Everything changed," Jon said.

"No, it hasn't!" Robb yelled. Jon was acting weird, and Robb does not approve at all. Now he wanted to punch him in the gut so he can stop talking about this shit.

"Yes, it has!" Jon yelled, he stood to his feet and looked at Robb in the eye. "You don't know who I am."

"Yes, I do!" Robb met Jon's eyes firmly. He refused to be intimidated by his tall height. "You're my broth-"

"No I am not," Jon countered as he sat back down and lowered his head. "I'm a fucking Targaryen." Jon's head snapped back up as his alarmed eyes connected with Robb's shocked ones.

What did he just say…he was a Targaryen?

"…What?" Robb said, at last, his mind burning.

Jon turned his head.

Robb grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!?" He asked so violently that spit flew on Jon's face.

Jon gazed at him sadly. "You're my cousin not my brother."

Robb stepped back as if he hit him. He was so shocked that he couldn't speak. He tripped on his own feet that had him stumbling to the ground. Ghost and Greywind watched, eyes giving nothing away.

Jon is a Targaryen.

Robb gasped as the meaning hit him with crushing force. "You're mother?"

"Lyanna Stark," Jon answered grimly. "And my real father is Rhaegar Targaryen."

Robb body felt like it was being poked by needles, very sharp ones.

Jon was not his brother.

"…Cousin?" Robb asked silently. He had to make sure.

Jon's nod killed his hopes. "Yes, I am your cousin."

Robb pondered on his words for a while before speaking again. "How is this possible? The king never said he had a second son."

Jon's face turned stony. "The king never said anything about me because he isn't  **aware** of me."

Gods…his father stole Jon away.

Robb looked at Jon's hands. "Is that why you're hands are like this? Did my father just tell you?"

Jon shook his head. "I already knew about my parentage before I came back. I spoke to him about why he took me away."

"Ah."

They fell into an awkward silence as Robb and Jon couldn't find anything more to say about this situation.

"Are you going to reveal this to the king?" Robb asked casually. Yet his insides were clamping its self in fear. What his father committed was a grave crime to Jon and to the Targaryen's. It was worthy of a death sentence. Robb does not want his father to be beheaded on a block.

Jon's thin-lipped smiled eased him. "No, don't worry, Rob. This hard truth will remain between me, you, and Lord Stark."

Love and adoration blossomed in Robb's chest. His family does not deserve to have somebody like Jon. They were lucky. So lucky and they were not grateful, especially his mother and Sansa.

Robb stepped forward and enveloped Jon in a tight hug. "I don't care if you're a Targaryen prince. To me, you will always be Jon, my  **Brother**."

Jon paused for a second before hugging Robb back.

**Aegon**

"Your grace," Varys said. "Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh agreed to our terms. The war is over at last." Everybody relaxed.

The small council is the same for only one change. Tyrion Lannister, the new master of coin.

To the council's good favor his father handpicked the most knowledgeable person who can handle the new position. It turns out that Petyr Baelish was not just a slimeball, he was also a traitor. Varys announced the man's participation in sending the enemies information and thus, lost his head for it. It all came to together on how the Royal fleet was unable to deliver the fatal blow despite winning most of the battles on the seas.

Rhaegar nodded. "Good." After he said those words he coughed softly. It was told to Aegon and the rest of the family that his father adopted a cough since his last duel with Robert Baratheon. Where his chest was slapped by the usurper's heavy war hammer. It was the last spiteful act of the dead man.

Rhaegar took his time to survey the room, his purple eyes so knowing. "We shouldn't be here," He stated.

The inhabits of the room nodded stiffly. If the rider and his dragon didn't offer their help to save kingslanding the power standings in Westeros will be extremely different and not for the best.

Aegon shuddered at the idea that his family might not have founded success in leaving kingslanding if the city fell.

"And this is my fault," Rhaegar said without emotion.

"But...Your grace, that's not true!" Connington protested.

"Yes, it is. I made a foolish mistake for being too impatient and therefore, the city almost fell," Rhaegar said. "I showed this two times, now and at Harrenhall."

Aegon shifted uneasily in his seat at the silence of the room. His father was somewhat bipolar when the talk of his failure at the rebellion was brought up. On one side of the coin his father was melancholy and the other side he grew angry in the eyes.

Rhaegar went on," Everybody in this room knew my plan was a lousy one and still agreed with me because I am the king."

Rhaegar then looked at Redwyne. "All besides you, Ser. You were not afraid to say that I was wrong even when you were outnumbered in this room. I apologize for me dismissing your advice."

Redwyne mused over his words. A thin scar nipped his lips up to his hairline. He was one of the ships that managed to retreat from the battle of the step stones but did not escape from it without something to remember it by.

After some time the man just nodded. Aegon could see the slight smirk that the man gave to the hand. Connington glared at him in return but said no words.

Rhaegar inclined his head and continued to examine the room. "After today I want everybody in this room to not be shy or scared to argue against my ideas. I am not my father."

The council nodded and Rhaegar gazed at Aegon. "I know you think that I am wise, son. But that still does not make anybody immune to making mistakes. I want you to learn from this and be a better king and a better man than I ever was when you ascend the iron throne."

Aegon nodded strongly at his words. He will try his best to make his father proud. "I won't fail you, father."

Rhaegar turned his gaze away. "I know you won't. And that's why you will marry Margaery Tyrell in a moon from now."

Old anger pumped his veins. And his inner dragon burned his stomach and his face must have turned red. Contrast to his emotions he felt a slight grin on his face.

The king was truly clever to use Aegon's motivation in his own way. The way he hinted it was so calm.

Whoever said that his father had no sense of humor?


	10. Chapter 10

**Jon**

"Arya," Jon called out as he knocked on the wooden door. "Can I come in?" He tucked the present securely under his armpit.

"Yes."

Jon moved into the room to see Arya packing her clothing and to his delight, she was huffing and puffing as she shoved her way through the task while wearing a slight scowl. Nymeria sat near the bed with her big frame moving as she snoozed.

Arya paused and glanced at him. "After a couple of days I have to fold it again, mother said it wasn't 'properly folded' why should I bother?" She said in annoyance.

Jon smiled and closed the door, knowing that his cousin was eyeing the object in his arms. She should, it was for her after all.

"Do what your mother says, Arya," Jon said.

"Like you ever do what she says," Arya replied, still eyeing his arm.

"Lady Stark is your mother, not mine," Jon said easily. Gone was the timid boy that ducked under Lady Starks cold gaze. In his place was a more bold and confident Jon. Never again was he taking the blame for what somebody else did, never again was he shivering in her presence. It was over.

Oddly, Lady stark seemed indifferent in regard to him. Jon noticed it a while ago and was puzzled.

"Are you coming with us to the tourney?" Arya responded with her eyes glued on the present.

Jon sighed. "Yes little sister, for the thousandth time I am going." When word of that there was going to be a large gathering at Harrenhall. Jon cannot waste the opportunity to see his father's side of the family.

Jon knew he was taking a risk, and so did Ned when he told the Starks that he was going with. Robb didn't say anything to this and just acted like everything was normal. Jon knew he has to be extra cautious to hide his identity and he also knew this was going to be a pain in the asshole as everybody always stopped him to question him. And the south is going to be even worse. And don't forget that there is a huge search party for the rider and Cannibal.

This is going to be a huge risk. Jon knows this with all his heart. He just wanted to see his Targaryen family…at least once.

Jon hid his grin as Arya asked more irreverent questions. This was all a ruse for Jon to finally reveal what he was holding, Arya has too much pride to ask herself.

Arya played a game of tug in her mind before giving in. "Damn, just tell me what that is!"

Jon walked over to the bed and pushed a bundle of clothes to the side as he placed the present down. "You shouldn't be cursing like that young lady, what would your mother think?" Jon said dryly.

"Shut up, Jon," Arya snapped as she came to his side. "Mother is not here now."

Jon chuckled as he opened it with a dramatic show as he slowly unwrapped it.

Arya pushed him away and gasped as she held a dagger in her hand. She rotated the dagger, seeing the artwork on the hilt.

"What is this?" Arya whispered in awe.

Jon grinned and raised his head. "The very best there is. Its valyrian steel."

"How did you get Valyrian steel? And where?"

"A man doesn't tell his secrets," Jon said smugly.

"Fine." Arya spread her arms and walked to him.

"Careful!" Jon warned as the dagger was too close to his body for comfort. Arya nodded, putting the dagger on her bed and springing in his arms.

"Thank you," Arya said as she hugged his neck a bit tighter.

"No problem."

"I won't let those southerners bother you, Jon. I will stick them with the pointy end with this and needle!"

"Ok, you go do that," Jon said as he patted her back. "I will be there beside you."

…

"Father isn't coming," Robb said as the feast carried on. All the lords and ladies of the north assembled in Winterfell before making the journey south. Ned thought it was a good idea to have a feast then march on the morrow.

Arya, Bran, and Rickon sat at the high table with Sansa talking excitingly to a woman with braided long hair. Ned and Catelyn sat farther up with Lord Umber and Jon can hear the man's booming voice as he shared laughs with Ned.

"He is not?"

"There must always be a stark in Winterfell he says," Robb said. "I told him that I could've stayed here in his stead but he refused."

Jon idly picked his food with his fork, a dozen explanations running through his mind. "Huh."

"Do you know what this means?" Robb asked seriously. "The royal family might see this as a slight."

"What would they do? Go to war with the north just because the warden decides not to come to a tourney? That's childish."

"You should convince him otherwise, it will be suspicious if he doesn't show up," Robb replied.

Jon glanced at him with disbelief. "He didn't show up to kingslanding when the rebellion ended, how is this any different?"

"Because the war just ended at that time, Jon," Robb countered. "There hasn't been any fighting for years."

Jon was not going down. "He didn't show up because of me. And he is not going to the tourney now because of  **me**."

"Your father should stay. What if he was caught with this lie? That's something he doesn't want to happen and that's what you don't want to happen," Jon added.

Robb sighed. "Ok, you have a point."

"I always do."

There were two pairs of skinny arms around his torso as Arya hugged him from behind. She sat down next to Jon and looked curiously between the two men. "What are y'all talking about?"

"Nothing," Robb quickly said as he excused himself before heading to the Karstarks table where his wife sat.

Arya stared at his back and looked at Jon with an eyebrow raised. Jon just shrugged. "You know him, Robb is weird."

"What did he say?" Arya asked with a smile.

Jon grinned as he spied the heir, wanting his dominance over Robb to be well known. "He asked me why I am so much better than him with a sword. He is really frustrated lately."

"I am not!" Robb shouted from afar and turned back around in his seat to chat with his wife and her family.

Jon frowned in confusion and with humor.  _How did he hear me? I should really be watching my back from now on._

…

Jon's eyes slowly opened and yawned as he stretched his arms in his bed. Ghost was at his side, not making nose except an occasion snort from his sleep.

_Today is the day._

Today is the day when the north finally marches south and Jon is feeling annoyed at the promise of getting chased down by questions about his dealings on the road.

Jon just hope that nobody bothered him and he can think alone in peace about his upcoming meeting with his family, but by the glances he has been getting that seemed like a foolish dream.

Jon started as there was a loud knock on his door. Ghost jumped out of the bed and stared at the door with intentness.

_I don't need a bodyguard, I got fucking Ghost._

Jon got to his feet and unbarred the door. He kept his face blank, though inside he was bloody screaming at what he was seeing.

Lady Stark was at his door.

_Lady stark is at my door._

Jon blinked…and blinked again.

"May I come in?" She asked tensely.

Jon nodded and stepped to the side. Catelyn swept in and looked at the room with a critical eye. She knelt down by Ghost and rubbed the back of his ear.

"Is there something you need, lady stark?" Jon asked neutrally. He was not in the mood to be scolded about being out of sight of the royal family and some nonsense.

"Yes I do," Catelyn got to her feet and watched him for a moment. "I need your forgiveness."

"Excuse me?" Jon said. Though, his mind started clicking. "So, Lord stark told you the truth."

"Yes."

"It was about time."

Catelyn sighed, her tense face showing regret. "I was not fair to you…I was harsh and it was unjustifiable. All these years of me hating you, loathing you…probably made you loathe me. When Ned brought you to Winterfell I disliked you from the very start, without knowing who you are."

Catelyn frowned as she stared at her feet. "I made a promise. I prayed to all the seven gods that ill love you, to accept you like my own. But I broke it…because I couldn't love a motherless bastard, or now a motherless prince."

"I am so sorry for all the hate that I gave you…will you forgive me?"

Jon stared at her, so torn. This was the woman that made his life miserable here. This was the woman that sought out to create a wedge between him and his siblings. This woman was the one who always looks down on him. This was the woman that demanded him to be sent to the wall more than once. And this was the woman that Jon wanted to get away from…to Essos.

Catelyn was pouring her regrets out and was admitting that she had been wrong for all the mental abuse she had been giving him.

Can Jon really forgive?

Jon was proud enough to say that none of his emotions showed on his face, though he wasn't sure it would last long.

"No," Jon said at last.

Catelyn sucked in a breath.

Jon turned his face away from the disappointment and the grief that was on her face. "I'm not ready to forgive yet. I don't think I am ready to forgive anything for a long time. You and Lord Stark done something that I should really kill myself for. What you say now doesn't change the past."

There was silence before Catelyn nodded. "I understand. What lord Stark did was unforgivable and what I have done was unforgivable as well. What you're doing for my children is something I can't ever return and all I can say is thank you."

Catelyn walked around Jon and softly closed the door. Jon quickly barred the door and sighed, his emotions were wild as of late and he didn't like it not one bit.

Ghost looked at him in concern and Jon rubbed his head. "I'm alright pal don't worry about me," Jon reassured as he walked to his bed. "You should be worried about me getting some damn sleep."

Jon fluffed his pillow and tucked himself underneath his blanket. He already packed his stuff last night and it wouldn't hurt him to get more sleep. It was needed more than ever right now.

Jon scowled in his pillow and closed his eyes.

…

Horses and carriages filled the open space roads. Hollow trees and dead branches were trampled as the horses marched past. Shouts and jabs were traded as the journey continued. The sky was just beginning to darken, with snow and dirt kicking up as the massive party continued.

Robb stopped and raised his fist. The party stopped and looked at the young man. So far he gathered the Lord's respect. "Let's camp here tonight, we will continue in the morn."

Cheers flourished as horses were put to the side, as tents were set up, and ale flowing and spilling. They were all happy that they can stop their advance, they had been riding for hours.

Jon agreed with their joy whole heartily. Jon nodded at a steward that took his reins and climbed off his horse.  _I have to go piss._  Jon thought with a grimace, he had been holding it for the duration of the trip but he can't any longer.

Jon looked at Ghost. "Stay here, I'll be back." The direwolf rolled his tongue and sat on his bottom.

Thankfully, none approached Jon as he slipped away from the group to relieve himself. Jon found a remote place that was vacant from any wandering eyes and he got to business.

For every second that he pissed he looked behind his shoulder. A bloke can never be too careful when it comes to your privacy. It was for this cautious act that he caught a figure moving in the darkness.

Jon pulled up his breeches, turned around and drew his sword. "I know you're out there, come out!"

"This man means no trouble, only a delivery," A man said as he stepped in Jon's line of vision. The man wore a brown dirty cloak that concealed his face, but not the accent.

"Who are you?" Jon demanded. This person was from Essos…he knows it.  _If this low life thinks he can claim the bounty on me…he has another thing coming._

His assumptions were false as the man lowered his hood.

Jon was blown away. "Jaqen h'gar?" His grip on his sword did not lax, only increased. This was a bloody faceless man…they were as dangerous as they were unpredictable. Jon narrowed his eyes as he felt his blood rise as he was mentally preparing for a battle.

Jaqen stood, not bothered in the least at his hostility. "This man has a delivery," He intoned.

Jon frowned and stood there in confusion. Jaqen waited with uncanny patience, his dead brown eyes holding Jon's burning purple ones.

Jon remembered the faceless man for certain. Red and white hair, his height, the air around him…Though he doesn't have any recollection about any delivery…

Jon's mind turned.

He couldn't keep his face blank as his jaw opened slightly. "You…actually got it?" He asked quietly, His hands began to sweat. And his mind tingled.

"This man has it," Jaqen said nodding. He walked over to him with care and searched through his cloak.

Jon's mind was in a mess, even as Jaqen pulled out a deadly looking sword, even as the sword was now in his shocked hands.

"The debt is paid," Jaqen said emotionless.

"Thanks," Jon croaked out.

Jaqen actually smiled and Jon didn't think his eyes appeared lifeless anymore. "Don't thank this man, he should be thanking you. You saved this one's life."

Nothing else was said and he was gone.

Jon blinked and looked at the sword in his hands with awe and the rapidly feeling of attachment. Long ago…he saved Jaqen from another faceless without knowing who they were or why they were fighting, only that someone was in need of help and then the shock came later.

Jaqen asked for what he wanted as he was the one who saved his life and Jon answered with his most harsh failure deep in his mind. Afterward, Jon hadn't heard of any word of Jaqen since then and he gave up hope. And he was foolish for doing so, for someone like Jaqen…his abilities should not be looked down upon.

But…faceless men always get the job done. If it involves killing people they get the job done. If it involves getting a lost sword within the Golden Company they get the shit  **done**.

Jon eagerly soaked the sword with his eyes. Twin dragon heads on the hilt, a ruby on the pommel that matched Ghost eyes and smoky ripples that traveled its length.

It's Blackfyre.

 _Were there any casualties?_ Jon wondered. The last time he made the effort to get the legendary sword he barely escaped with his life, but someone did betray him to be fair. Jaqen had the advantage of surprise and being a faceless man while Jon's ambitious plan was foreseen.

Jon gave a few tests with Blackfyre. The sword was thin but Jon could tell it was stronger than it looks.  _How strong?_  Jon glanced at a random tree and formed an idea and he took a deep breath and sliced through with gracefulness.

Instantly, a good chunk of the tree fell to the ground as a few touched Jon's eyes. He smiled, Blackfyre was the best sword he owned out of the many he had in his possession. After all, Aegon the conqueror once used this weapon, it has to be superior to the others.

With ease, Jon took the ordinary sword out of his scabbard and let it drop the ground. With a swoosh, Blackfyre was sheathed in its place. Without a glance at the sword that lay on the ground, he left to rejoin the camp.

"Snow!" A voice called out.

Jon turned back around with his mask back in place. An averaged sized man with short black hair and blue eyes stepped forward. Jon immediately identified him as a Bolton with the image of a flayed man on his furs.

"Yes, and you are…?" Jon asked knowingly.

"Domeric Bolton," The man answered softly, he reached out a hand.

Jon accepted the small invitation and shook his hand firmly. "Pleased to meet you, my lord, what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Nothing," Domeric said easily. "You just happen to interested me; I seek to have a normal conversation with someone who is not in their cups."

Jon looked around and understood the young man's point. Jon can only spot a few that were sober enough to even walk on their feet; they were definitely going wish otherwise in the morn.

Jon turned back to Domeric, gauging his character. "I am sorry for your father's death my lord."

Domeric waved it away, a sad smile on his face. "He is with the gods now. And for now on, call me Domeric."

"Ok Domeric."

"Walk with me," Domeric said as he started walking without Jon's response.

Jon narrowed his eyes at the lords back. He was able to smell when somebody was making an act from most people thanks to his time in the Golden Company where everyone was a seeker for more favor and glory, and Domeric was using it a minute ago. The Bolton brushed off the mention of his father with no emotion…too easily.

Domeric looked back at him with a small smile. "Are you coming?"

Jon nodded and glanced at Ghost. "Let's go Ghost," The direwolf rose from his bottom and paced with Jon to Domeric.

The Bolton's eyes stretched as he looked at the animal with respect and fear. "It's splendid," He whispered.

"It's a he, not an 'it'."

Domeric absently nodded. "Of course, that is my mistake."

Jon and Domeric walked side by side through the camp talking idly about stuff that is not important, though, not for too long.

"The dragon is truly magnificent, isn't it?" Domeric asked.

Jon grew stiff at the mention of Cannibal. "Yes, it is."

"A beast of that size is incredible," Domeric said. "Such power, the rider must have some as well if he can ride it. I read a couple of books that said Cannibal is berserk."

"Common sense," Jon said normally. He didn't think the north would be still kicking if Jon didn't have control over it, Cannibal  **is** savage.

"The king wanted his audience for a while now," Domeric stated.

"I know."

Domeric turned his head to look at him. "Don't you think it is…strange?"

"What do you mean?"

"The king asked for a meeting with the rider but he refuses to show himself."

"That's simple, he probably wants no attention to come to him," Jon replied.

Domeric smiled and shook his head. "There is no question that the king may give him a generous amount of dragons for his help in saving kingslanding."

Jon glanced at him. "He doesn't want the gold apparently. The rider just wants to help."

"No man would want to turn that down. Everyone has a motive in doing something." Domeric countered.

"He doesn't have a motive, he is honorable."

"In this world no one is honorable."

"That's not true," Jon denied. "I personally know a few."

"Ok then," Domeric said. "Name one."

"Lord Stark."

Domeric stared at him. "If he is honorable, then why are you here?"

Jon bit his tongue so hard that it bled, tightened his fist so forcibly his gloves screeched so to retrain him from punching the man next to him in his mouth. He was not Ned's bastard; however, old habits still have some measure of holding over Jon. Also, he wasn't supposed to care about that anyway. But the way Domeric said it made Jon rage.

"I'm sorry to tell you that, I had to make a point," Domeric explained calmly.

"That's reasonable," Jon said through clenched teeth.

"Good." Domeric turned his eyes ahead. "Now to what I was saying, I think I know the reason for the rider's motive."

"If he has one."

Domeric went on as if Jon didn't speak. "The rider is not after privacy nor is he trying to protect us from the dragon by hiding because there were sightings of the dragon in multiple locations without the rider present."

"Oh," Jon causally said. Something told him that he would not like what the Bolton's next words were but he was too curious.

Domeric pale blue eyes turned sharp. "The rider is not showing his face because he is hiding  **something**."

Jon's heart stopped and so did his feet, Ghost paused and looked at him curiously. Domeric was aware and stopped as well to glance at him. "Are you ok?" He asked politely.

Jon's mouth was suddenly heavy. "Yes. I think it's time for me to retire."

"The night is still young."

"I want to be well rested before we ride in the morn."

Domeric nodded. "Farewell."

Jon nodded back and quickly walked away with Ghost by his side.  _He reminds me of Tyrion._  That was not a good thing; he has to be on guard around Domeric from now on and he will be better prepared. Jon wondered if the Bolton had a motive into approaching him…

Jon leisurely walked in the camp to search for the Stark's tent. It didn't take a great deal of time before he spotted Shaggy outside of a decent sized pavilion. The black wolf barked and lunged at him with great velocity. Jon grinned as he was taken down. Shaggy drenched his face with saliva as he kissed his face. There were laughs as the large wolf showed his love.

"Shaggy!" A squeaky voice yelled.

Jon looked to the side to see Rickon standing at the entrance of the tent. The auburn-haired Stark wrapped his skinny arms around Shaggy's head and pulled "Down!"

Shaggy obeyed and ran into the tent. Rickon sheepishly smiled at Jon. "Sorry about that."

Jon grinned and got to his feet. "It's alright sport," He said as he ruffled Rickon's hair.

"Come on! Everyone is inside!" Rickon said as he grabbed Jon's hand and dragged him to the tent.

 _Even Lady Stark?_  Jon thought with worry. He was not afraid of the women, but he was afraid of the conversation that may happen after the drama at Winterfell.

He and Rickon entered to see the family seated at a long table along with Theon. Arya sprang from the long table in the center. "Where've you been at, Jon?" Arya asked annoyed. "We didn't see you after the tents were made up."

"Stop it, Arya," Sansa sharply said. "What he does is his business, not yours."

"Shut up, stupid!"

Lady and Nymeria started sizing each other up as if the other was a cause for their master's ire. Ghost rejoined grey wind, summer and shaggy in a corner and watched the two girls in silence.

"Please stop," Robb pleaded and Alys nodded as Theon and Bran chuckled. "You two have been arguing for hours, can y'all just leave each other be?"

"Arya keeps acting like she is a boy rather than a lady! She doesn't know how to act," Sansa accused.

Arya opened her mouth in outrage. "I'm not a boy or a lady! Father says I don't have to be one."

"Girls!" Catelyn cut in. "Sit down and eat, enough of this arguing."

Arya and Sansa shared a final glare before seating down on opposite sides of the table.  _Would I and the crown prince argue like that if I was raised with him?_ That was unlikely, Jon heard nothing except good things about the crown prince. People even say that he was going to be a better king than even Rhaegar and that he is going to be the wisest ruler since Jaeharys the wise. And more recently the prince married the Tyrell woman.

Jon stiffly returned Catelyn's barely distinguishable nod. It was not going to be a good idea if the others have the impression that the women would all of the sudden be formal with him.

Jon sat down next to Robb as Rickon took a seat beside him. Robb's face turned surprised as Jon removed his scabbard from his waist for comfort.

"Nice hilt," Robb whistled, catching the others attention to his scabbard. "Where did you get that?"

Jon grinned secretly. "From a friend."

"If the hilt is nice, the sword its self must be as well," Theon stated as he used his fork and knife to cut his sausage.

"Yes, your right," Alys agreed as she watched Jon's scabbard with interest. "I'm most curious about the sword myself."

Bran leaned over the table eagerly. "Can we see it?"

"You can see it when I win the melee," Jon said.

There were looks of shock at his unwavering confidence. Robb placed his cup on the table and looked at him. "You really think you can win it all?"

"I have no doubt."

"Listen, Jon," Robb started. "You are good with a sword, really damn good. I heard that you are legendary with it, I personally experienced it myself. But in this tourney everybody is competing, that includes the crown prince and the kingsguard."

"Don't forget about the Clegane's," Theon added in a rush. "They are bloody big and powerful and the mountain is supposed to be bigger than Lord Umber."

"Big, powerful, mountains, skill, prince, kingsguard," Jon said smoothly. "It won't matter to me. All of them are going to end smothered beneath my boot."

Jon felt Rickon fidget next to him and realized that he said his words too seriously as nobody met his gaze, even Lady Stark and Theon looked away.

"Even me?" Robb asked. "Well, I'm happy to say that I'm going to stick to the joust."

The silence ended and there were laughs to his sense of humor. Jon grinned at him. "Don't be so sure, I may participate in that too."

Robb kept his grin. "I don't care if you join the joust, I would smack you senseless. I've always been the better rider between the two of us."

"I'll give you that."

"While you two are talking about swords and maces, I am bound to win the archery competition," Theon boasted.

Robb rolled his eyes. "We all know that, buddy. You know, I've always had the opinion that the people who use bows instead of swords are too much of a coward to be in close combat."

Theon sputtered and engaged Robb in a dispute. Jon inwardly nodded at Robb's point of view. He always preferred to be close and personal with his enemies, if he ended someone's life it was not going to be from afar. A close friend taught him that.

" _ **You have to look them in the eye before you take their life. If you can't do that, maybe he doesn't deserve to die after all."**_

"Do you think the rider is going to be at the tourney?" Arya voiced.

"That's not going to happen," Theon said. "He only came to sight once, why come now?"

Strangely, Robb watched Jon as the topic swelled, Jon's face remained posed, showing nothing.

…

Far too soon there was the announcement to retire, Jon walked away from the pavilion to find one of his own. A hand clamped on his arm before he got too far. Robb turned him around and crossed his broad arms.

"What's wrong? Shouldn't you be getting comfy with your wife?" Jon asked mildly.

Robb stared at him. "Do you have something to tell me?"

Jon looked up to the night sky and rubbed his beard. He knows that Robb has a suspicion that he is the rider, that clarifies the way he had been staring at him during supper. Jon weighted the pros and cons of confessing this to the Stark and he just doesn't give a damn. There was no point in hiding this from Robb.

"Exactly," Jon conceded, taking Robb by surprise. "I am the rider."

Robb's eyebrows shot to his forehead, his face transforming to shock, disbelief, to amazement, and then to shock again.

Robb chuckled and looked to the sky. "Why should I be surprised?"

"You have every right to be," Jon answered quickly. "If I was in your place I would be as well."

Robb glanced at him. "A northern bastard went to Essos where he gained fame and unbelievable skills and came back with a dragon and is secretly a Targaryen, that's phenomenal. A good ass story to tell."

"And a good song to sing," Jon jested. The two laughed and grew solemn at the amount of lies that circled Jon.

"I didn't get the dragon from Essos," Jon said randomly.

Robb looked to be processing this before he spoke again. "You went with Tyrion Lannister to Valyria," Robb went on as Jon nodded. "And that's where you found the dragon."

"Aye, though it was a living hell when I met it," Jon responded dryly.

"If you don't mind me asking, what else did you discover in Valyria?"

"Actually, I do mind. I don't want to talk about it."

Robb nodded without protest and Jon thanked him for that. "Do you have a tent set up already?"

"I don't," Jon admitted.

"Then I will have someone make one for you. I will see you in the morn," Robb said as he walked away, probably digesting the loads of information that he took.

Jon admired his cousin's ability to withstand the impossible. Robb took problems in stride and joked about it afterward, he will be an excellent warden.

Jon wasn't positive of what  **he**  will be in the future, and that scared him.


	11. Arival

**Jon**

Sweat was on his forehead, and he wiped it off once again with a scowl. Jon took a swing from his flask. He felt trapped in his tunic and his pants, and his armpits were beginning to feel damp. It was humid and hot, very exceeding weather for the men of the north. Jon steadied his horse and glanced behind to see the huffing and wheezing north men and at the calm breathing of the Riverland folk. It was easy to see what the problem was. The folks from the Riverlands were farther south, and therefore more suited to the warmer temperature. Jon himself was more fitted because of the harsh environment of Valyria he explored.

When the river land men took notice of his glancing he received glares in return. Jon merely smiled at them and turned his head back around. After traveling through The Twins, Lady Stark persisted to regroup at her house home and to march to Harrenhall as one huge force. As expected, Jon was being glowered at from the start to the finish, especially from the blackfish.  _If they don't say anything to me they're fine, they know better._

Green was all that can be seen to the eye. Green leaves, bushes, and the bright grass made his eyes hurt.  _This is the greenest land I've ever seen in my life._  Jon thought to himself. Though, it was nice enough. He could see why the southerners fell in love with these lands. It was rich. And Jon saw the blue ponds as the party moved onward.

"This is the greenest land I've ever seen in my life," Robb said, cross-eyed at the vibrant colors.

"Me and you both."

"Don't worry, young lads!" Lord Umber hollered, riding up to Robb's right. "You'll get used to this shit soon enough."

"I hope so too, my lord," Jon replied. He was not particularly fond of this new environment aside from the blue ponds.

"I, for one like it here. It feels different," Domeric said as he came to Jon's side to his displeasure. The lord must've seen his look as he reached out with his hand. "Hello once again, Snow. I know we've left on unpleasant terms. Let me make it up."

Robb and Lord Umber watched curiously as Jon looked at the offered hand in silence. In the end, he finally smiled and shook his hand. "No hard feelings for me." If this lord was genuine, Jon had no reason to act gruff and rude. But it doesn't mean that he will be friends with him.

This put the others at ease. And Robb smiled."Lord Bolton! I feel glad that you're enjoying our surroundings," he said. "Thus, it pains me to say that I can't relate to that. It's too bloody hot.

Domeric chuckled. "I also find the weather taxing. But the trees and the ponds make up for it."

Jon nodded. "It's nice. I look forward to seeing the God's Eye.

Robb clamped his hand on his shoulder. "If we have the time we can go together."

"Me too," Lord Umber said.

"Me third," Domeric added.

"And me fourth!" Arya shouted from the carriage not too far away from them. There were sniggers at the way the young girl stuck out her head from the opening of the carriage. "Look! We are here!" Arya exclaimed, pointing up ahead.

There were a few whistles and gasps. Jon only half realized he was one of them too. The party consisting of the north and the Riverlands stopped and gawked at the towering piece of artwork in front of them. Further down the party, people climbed off their horses and stared too.

 _When they said that they rebuild this they weren't jesting._  Jon thought as he silently praised the castle. Gone were the charred walls. In its place was fresh placed restructured walls that seemed so massive compared to Winterfell. Or any other castle for that matter. There were five towers and thick gates. The width of the castle amazed Jon. It was double the size of Winterfell and covered any ground he can see. Along the walls were banners, banners of the great houses.

 _Hmm, some houses are already here. Interesting_. Jon thought, slightly apprehensive as the world sped up his reunion with his family from afar.

Robb turned his horse around and faced his party, a gleam in his blue eyes that hid none of his excitement. "We have arrived, my lords. Let's ride!"There were shouts and cries as they moved on again, at a noticeably faster pace

The sun touched them as a soft breeze swept through the air. Jon sighed in contentment as he felt the air through his thick curls and through his neatly trimmed beard.  _This feels nice._

"Behave, Jon," Robb said as he slowed down his pace to match his.

Jon snorted and glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means don't go crazy on these ladies, Jon."

"I'll try," Jon said cheekily, just to humor the Stark.

He shared a knowing look with Robb, and they both cracked up laughing. The onlookers didn't know what caused them to laugh and soon they laughed along as well. In no time the whole gathering was lit up with laughs for no apparent reason. Everyone was just content to enjoy the moment.

The laughs were soon gone as the party came nearer to the castle bit by bit. As Jon looked ahead, there lay the camps. From what he could see so far, the men from the vale and the Stormlands were the only ones set up. Obviously, the rest of the camp was hiding from view and needed further exploration around the castle to see.

As they got closer the smell of cooking food reached their nose. Jon hurriedly turned his horse as curses flew by his ear. His fear was essential as horses shrieked and the familiar sounds of barking were heard. The large shapes of the direwolf's racing through the crowd set a stone in his stomach.

 _They smell the food._ Jon cursed and climbed off his horse. "Don't worry!" He yelled to the panic Robb. "I'll handle them."

Jon excused himself past the fellow men as the direwolfs rapidly decreased the distance. He planted his feet to the ground and glared at the approaching wolfs. "Down!"

To his dismay, they didn't stop. Jon felt his world turn black as he was roughly run over by pure muscle.

**Robb**

Robb stared hard at the direwolfs that now grouped around the fallen Jon like a circle. The wolves had the decency to look sympathetic as they softly nipped the Targaryen's side as if to wake him up. Jon stirred, his lean form shifting before stilling. His head was busted open, with a long line of blood that touched his lips.

Others climbed off their horses as well to peer at the commotion, faces curious as they looked down at the unconscious man. The Stark carriage curtains opened and Arya ran out, followed by a worried Sansa and a shocked Alys. Catelyn swept passed through the curtains and glanced at the crowd. Rickon and Bran hurtled out the carriage and beeline to the center of the attention.

"Bad, Lady!" Sansa said as she slapped Lady on the head. "That's not good! Look at what you have done!"

Robb nodded as his siblings scolded their respectful direwolfs and looked at Greywind. His wolf sat behind the silent Ghost as if his brother would protect him from the scolding that he knew was coming. Ghost lazily stood up and sat by his master's side and watched from a safe spot. Greywind growled at his brother's betrayal and looked uneasily at Robb.

Robb gazed at his grey wolf, his mind making decisions. He sighed.  _I will deal with him later. Jon's condition is more urgent right now._

Robb looked up and scanned through the crowd for a face. "Jory!"

Jory shoved past the mob and stood near him. "Yes, my lord?"

Robb's words came out efficiently, his father taught him that his words have to be confident and true if the lords can respect him and Robb took it to heart as well as his head. "Go to the castle and find a maester, quickly!"

Jory bowed. "At once, my lord," He said as he rushed to the rustling camp in search of a healer.

Robb looked at Lord Umber. "I'll set up camp," Umber said before Robb can explain, perfectly aware of Robb's desire without him having to speak. "I will take care of your brother and his wolf for ya."

Robb was pleased. "Good." He looked at his family and calculated on how far the castle was from here. "Let us continue. The royal family is waiting for us."

The ride to Harrenhall was short and quick. Before he was aware of it, they now were outside the doors of the great hall waiting to be announced. He can even hear the loud noise from the other side.

His heart was pounding too hard. And none of them noticed it. Bran, Rickon, Arya were all bouncing on their heels. Sansa was scarcely faring better. He can see that her eyes never once left the massive doors.

Alys placed a warm hand on his arm. Robb smiled gratefully at her and then met his mom's gaze, seeing the slight worry in her eyes. Knowing this tourney could spell disaster for the family and the rest of the north.

_I'm ready._

The doors opened.

"Welcome, house Stark!" The herald cried out in a great voice, banging his staff against the floor. The sound of the revelry died down, and Robb can taste the eyes that pinned on them as he and his family walked forward.

The long tables, holding a good supply of people and a whole lot of food, caught his eye. The hall was bright with torches that darkened the room to an orange hue. The hall was so large that Robb could swear this was the biggest amount of people he had seen in a single room in his life.

Right off the bat, he could identify which house was what. The Westerlands were on the left side of the room, banners on their table resembling the proud lions.

_Is Tywin Lannister present? Or for that matter, is the imp here?_

Indeed he is present. The imp of Casterly Rock was there drinking from a goblet with expertness and ease that made Robb sweat. Tyrion eyed him and raised an eyebrow. Robb looked away.

All the houses had space between the other so that at least three people can move without having contact with a single person. Most notable was how distant the Stormlands and the vale were from the rest. Robb didn't find it surprising that they clung to themselves only. Old wounds can still fester. He can see how by the look of suspicion they equip on their faces when someone from the other table swings by.

The Reach and Dorn sat right next to each other and Robb can now put this on his more than surprise list. From what he can gather, lord Oberyn crippled Willas Tyrell for life and the two houses hated the other ever since.

 _I guess old wounds can heal._ Rob thought as he wandered his eyes to the high table. They must be the Targaryens, they have to be. They were the very example of the perfection of what everyone wants to be and what they can't be.

One of them was a broad-shouldered man that seated to the far left of the table. His long blond-silver hair reached his shoulders. And He has a neat beard that suited his sharp features and his lilac eyes. Next to that man was a woman with golden hair and cold green eyes that seemed bored as she looked at them.

In the middle was another man that shared the sharp features and the hair. He was younger and more joyful in the face. The man was the prince.

 _Jon's half brother_. Rob sought out the features that were in his face and compared it to Jon's. It was pure instinct. Robb can see they had the same jaw, the same shape of the nose, the same cheekbones and the same eyes.

_Damn, the only thing different is the hair colors. If the hair colors were the same they would be looking like twins. Oh, gods, I can finally say why Jon loves his hair now._

To his right was a striking woman with a heart-shaped face and brown hair. Presumably, Margaery Tyrell. Her arm was wrapped around the princes like a rope that was tightly knotted together. Her face was positive but not her eyes, it was smug looking.

A plump old lady was to the right of her. The aging woman was Lady Whent.

Lastly, to the end, was a chocolate skinned young woman with dark hair that was in ringlets that fell to her back. Her cheek rested in her palm, brown eyes bored but also sharp that never failed to catch anything.

As Robb was done with his observation, he took notice of the lack of numbers at the high table. There has to be more isn't there?  _Where are the king and the queen? And where are the queen dowager and her daughter?_ And instead of the reported six kingsgaurd, there were only two. The protectors were located by their table, eyes watching everything and everyone.

Aegon stood up and smiled. "Robb Stark, it's good for you to be here. I thought you wouldn't make it."

"We ran into some inconvenience on the road. Nothing too troubling, my prince."

Aegon's smile stayed pure. Robb could hear the ladies hearts thump in their chest as they gazed at the prince.

"That's good and all. But where is Lord Stark? Isn't he here?"

_Here we go, damn you, Jon._

"No. My father isn't here with us. He sent me in his stead. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

Whispers scattered in the hall at the revelation. Robb kept his face natural as the royal family frowned. From the corner of his eye, his siblings started twitching and Alys gripped his upper arm. Catelyn stayed motionless and eyed the prince with calmness.

"This is a dilemma, I'm afraid," Aegon said fluently, frowning. "Your father did this twice."

Robb's blood rushed to his ears, and his body stiffened. The hall was without a single whisper as everyone held their breath to see where this was going.

Like a lightning strike, the prince's grin was back in full force. "Ah! What the hell! Tywin did the same and he is also absent! No harm was done, my good friend!"

At once the hall was echoing with laughs. The Westerlands took no part in this, scowling as they perceived this as a slight to their warden. The golden-haired woman on the high table scowled and whispered into the bearded man's ear harshly. The Targaryen flinched and scooted his chair a few spaces.

"I also heard your brother returned," Aegon said, bringing everyone's attention back to the fold. "Congratulations are in order."

Robb smiled to himself. He was truly happy that Jon came home to them. He felt complete, like if Jon was his other half. "I'm forever grateful that he has returned to us."

Someone snorted to his right. Robb glared at the man and the instantly looked down.  _I am not taking any smack talk about Jon by any means._

If Aegon saw this he didn't mention it. "I hope to see him in the melee and the joust."

"You will see him."

Aegon's showed his shiny white teeth. "I expect him to do well for all the talk Essos says about him."

"I am sure that he would exceed your expectations, my prince."

The prince sat back down and grabbed his goblet. "I have faith in your words, Robb Stark. It would be a disappointment if the 'white wolf' takes more than he could chew. I will be sad if one of his fangs falls off."

The folks began to laugh. Some even tried to mimic the sound of a wolf howling. Robb could see the princess smirk and roll her eyes.

_Is he mocking Jon? Oh shit. He has no idea what Jon can do to him like what he has done to me. I will pity him when Jon meets him in the field._

"You will find out, my prince that a wolf can chew a lot and have the appetite for more."  _That sounded wrong on so many levels._

The crowd was shocked into silence. Aegon chewed on his lip in amusement. "Big mouth and big words, Stark!" He said as he seated himself. "Don't let me take up more of your time. Surely you need to organize your camp."

"Yes, my prince," Robb said as he walked out of the hall. His family fell in step with him, no one saying a word. It wasn't long before the silence was broken by an angry Stark.

"I can't believe he insulted Jon like that!" Arya hotly said. "He is a prick." Bran and Rickon nodded with her, Alys more secretly.

Catelyn rounded on her. "Keep your voice down!"

"No!" Arya refused. "They wouldn't be saying stuff like that if Jon was there!"

_That is something I agree with you, sister._

"Aegon is the crown prince," Sansa said as if that solves everything. "He can insult anyone as much as he likes. Jon can do nothing if he was there."

"Shut up stupid! Jon is our brother!" Tears of frustration glistened in Arya's eyes.

"Cut this out! Both of you," Catelyn chastened. "This will do nothing, Arya. You cannot barge into that hall and stab every one of them with needle just because of what the prince said."

"Yes, I can!"

Robb knew Arya is deeply protective of Jon ever since she can walk on her own two feet. She is probably more protective of him than her real brothers because of the stunt Jon pulled off years ago. Having someone insulting the person you love is a tough thing to stand.

"Calm down Arya," Robb said. "Maybe the prince wasn't intending to disrespect Jon. The melee and the joust are just around the corner and the tourney is going to be filled with competition. This is all a sport, don't take it personally. You know Jon is good with the sword. People are going to be eyeing him."

Arya closed her eyes and nodded in acceptance. Robb smiled, he slung his arm around her skinny shoulders and led her through the halls. "Everything is going to be okay, little sister."

"Hey!"

**Jon**

He woke up rather confusing to his surroundings. He was propped up in a bed with thick bandages that draped his head. He figured that he was in a tent from the loud noises coming from the outside of the flap. From the side of his bed was Ghost, who was now on the bed licking his face with barely restrained glee.

"Ghost, stop!" Jon ordered, pushing his wolf away so he can have fresh air. "This is your fault," He accused, glaring.

Ghost tilted his head to the side, tongue hanging out. Jon softens. He couldn't stay mad at his buddy for long. He rubbed Ghost by the ear. "I guess it's alright pal."

The bandages on his head felt sticky and uncomfortable, and so he ripped it off and threw it to the ground. "That's better," Jon declared as he touched his forehead for any marks. Finding none, he laid back into the pillows. "Note to self, don't ever stand in the way of hungry direwolfs."

Ghost glanced at him in a sort of approval before lying down again. The Tents flag was set to the side and Robb came in.

"You shouldn't have done that," Robb stated as he looked at the neglected bandages on the ground.

"My head is fine, see?" Jon said as he pointed his head, proving his point. "It hurts a little but it's good."

"It hurts?"

"Its fine, Robb," Jon said firmly.

Robb sat in one of the chairs and sighed. "You should've moved out the way."

Jon shrugged. "Somebody had to stop them. They would've caused a fuss."

"How does it feel to get ran over by six direwolfs?"

"Unpleasant."

"I bet it was," Robb replied.

"I take it that you met the royal family," Jon said.

"Aye, I did. Your sister is one fine woman."

Jon threw the pillow right in his cousin's face. "That's not what I want to know, you horny wolf!"

"Ok, ok," Robb backing off, chuckling. He picked the pillow up and placed it back behind Jon's head. Jon thanked him as he got comfortable again. "I was just looking. I'm loyal to my wife."

"If you were loyal you wouldn't be eyeing my sister like that."

Robb groaned and crossed his arms. "I can look, Jon," He said slowly as if he was explaining this to a little boy.

"Ok. The next time I see your wife, you will feel what I feel."

"What?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it."

Robb searched his face for a moment before speaking. "Alright."

"How long was I out?" Jon asked.

"Not too long, a couple of hours," Robb answered. "Just in time for the welcome feast."

"Did you see my father?" Jon asked hesitantly.

His heart took a blow as Robb shook his head in no. "Unfortunately not. The king and the queen are off doing some duties. I don't know where the queen dowager is either."

"Hmm…"

Robb stood up, cracking his knuckles. "Get up and get dressed. The feast is going to start any minute now."

The Stark left him alone. And Jon picked through his bag for a nice outfit. He grabbed a black tunic and black pants and nodded.  _Black was always my color._

He was ambushed by the Starks as soon as he left his tent. "Are you ok, Jon?" Bran asked concerned.

Jon smiled, though perhaps to the others, it looked a bit tired. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"I won't let Shaggydog be anywhere near you again," Rickon said.

Jon laughed, and he knew it was wrong. His family was worried about him and he was finding it funny. "I don't think you should go that far. Just give him a good kick up his ass and I will be happy."

Sansa and Catelyn frowned at his crude way of speaking while the others sniggered. By the way Rickon's face was crumbled up, he was seriously reflecting on his offer.

"Shaggy!" Rickon called out. "Com-"

Jon and Robb hastily placed their hands on his shoulder. "It was a joke, Rickon," Robb explained.

Rickons face turned red and he stuttered out. "Oh-sorry."

"You dummy," Arya teased, making Rickon's ear change color to a ruby.

"That's enough," Catelyn said, saving her son from more pain. "Stop teasing your brother."

The walk to the castle was short and peaceful with the sun beginning to set. Several groups of people were already going inside and talking with merry. More than once Jon found himself stopping to stare at the massive towers and the massive walls that dwarfed Winterfell at least three times. His cousin had to push him along or he would have been stuck there in the same place all day.

The halls were so wide that it provided a great number of people to walk freely without them having to be in line or such.  _They did a hell of a good job rebuilding this_. Jon thought.

The doors to the great hall opened and the sound of plates clattering immediately stemmed. Jon's stomach growled at the scent of the heavenly food and realized he hadn't eaten all day.

He attempted to catch a glance at the high table but his cousins and everyone else pushed him towards the empty tables that were meant for the north. Jon sat between Robb and Arya while Bran and Rickon went with their mother to seat with the Tully's.

Blackfish snarled at him and turned his attention back to Lady Stark. Jon shrugged. He  _has been giving me those looks for the entire time of the ride. why should I be intimidated now?_

"Ignore him," Robb said as he grabbed a roll of bread. He must've seen his uncle in the act.

"Easier said than done."

Robb chewed on his bread and looked around the hall thoughtfully. "Have you seen Theon?"

"I haven't."

With no one to disturb him, he, at last, looked at the high table. He was momentarily stunned on how elegant they looked and how they establish themselves as royalty, they were perfect. From their hair to their clothes they stood out from the rest.

 _That could have been me._ He thought bitterly. Another grievous thing Ned Stark had done to him.

Jon was oblivious to the way his hand was clenching or the way his purple eyes were sparkling with anger until Robb's hand touched his shoulder. His eyes were too sympathetic for Jon's liking.

Jon was now mindful of his deep breathing and the curious glances he was getting as everyone connected the dots on who he was. Suddenly, his blood rushed to his ears. Who are they to judge him? They don't know what he is or what he has been through and so they cannot judge. How could they?

"I don't need your pity," Jon hissed as he stood from the table. Eyes turned to him as he left the table and Headed for the doors.

"That's Jon Snow!"

"The bloody white wolf!"

"Why is that brute in this hall?"

Jon had the itch to look at the high table again for some strange reason. It was there where his eyes met a set of sharp brown ones. It was Princess Rhaenys. Her eyes were intense and filled with curiosity. Jon struggled to hold her stare but held himself strong and braced. The contact was brief to others but to Jon, it felt it last minutes. Jon was the first one to break. He turned to leave the hall, and he was sure that the princess never took her eyes off him. Jon's heart burned, and his breath quickened. It was a puzzle as to why.

Not too long after he left, Jon wandered through the halls and quickly finds himself in a sticky situation, he was lost.

 _Damn, I think leaving the hall was a mistake._ Jon thought as he turned another corner.

"The bastard of Winterfell!"

Jon felt a grin come to his face as he turned to greet his old friend. "The Imp of Casterly Rock. Nice to see you here."

Jon walked until he was right next to Tyrion and held out his hand. "Now where is my gold that you promised me?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Jon**

"The gold should already be in my hands by now," Jon stated, still holding his hand without looking down at the Lannister.

Tyrion just sipped his goblet, eyes patient.

Jon dropped his hand and sighed. "I'm sorry to be so blunt with you. I'm just really hoping the trip was not a mistake." A lot of what he did in the past had some flaws in it this was no exception. The pain will be easier to handle if he had something to gain from it. Jon scratched his back, absently feeling the man-made scar.

"Don't worry," Tyrion assured. "Your income is guaranteed. Two bags, filled with a shit ton of gold, sits in my tent at this moment."

"Should be three."

"Done. One of my most trusted men will help you carry them. It's quite heavy."

"You trust this person?"

Tyrion hummed, his cup hand moving in a slow-moving rotation. "I will say yes, except when it comes to his brother. He never stops telling me that he will one day slay him."

"Is his brother here? In this castle?" Jon asked. From what knows, one of the brothers hated the other, but he has no telling that the brother in question returns those feelings.

Tyrion caught on his line of thought. "Yes, but under heavy supervision by my uncle Kevan and his men. This is not going to be enough, however."

"You don't think it's going to work because of the melee," Jon said. "You fear that the brothers will deliberately face each other in a battle to kill." It was as simple as that.

"It's turning out that way," Tyrion answered, taking another sip. "It is rather curious that my father allowed the man to come to this tourney. He is very aware of the bad blood between the brothers."

"It seems that your father did that on purpose and you did say he is an ass," Jon said bluntly.

Tyrion nodded and looked at his cup in a sort of disappointment type of curiosity because the goblet was now empty of its contents. "Very much of an ass. Very much…"

"If I may ask, who is the man that you trust?"

"Sandor Clegane, or what others call him 'the hound'" Tyrion said in a snort.

"What was that for?" Jon asked, referring to his snorting.

"I find it funny that people call him the 'hound' when his brother should be the one with it. The 'mountain' can barely complete his sentences and he is a mindless animal that craves nothing but violence," Tyrion said in disgust. "At least with Sandor he has a brain and uses it."

"Ok. That's all that I need to know," Jon said. He will use this information later to ensure that his cousins will not be anywhere near the Clegane brawl. If the brothers were to fight let them fight. It was no one's right to be in the middle of their problems.

Tyrion gave him a sharp glance. "Does it interest you to know why they loathe the other when they are siblings?"

"Not really," Jon replied. "It's not my problem, and I don't need to be in this." He eyed the dwarf with a frown. "You want me to know don't you?"

"Ah, you got me," Tyrion said smiling, zero shame on his face. "It's a short story that is not meant for ladies who prefer stories that are made of flowers and gallant knights in shiny armor."

Jon's mind flashed to Sansa before he washed it away and looked at Tyrion. "Ok. Go on." If this story can interest Tyrion then the story could interest him as well.

"Don't let Sandor know about this," Tyrion warned.

"I'm not scared of him," Jon replied, casting off the warning.

"I knew you were going to say that." Tyrion coughed to clear his throat and started to speak.

"Poor fucker," Jon breathed out after the story was done. "No wonder why Sandor wants the fucker dead," He said to himself before glancing at Tyrion. "I wasn't about to do anything anyway, but I can tell you myself that I would not get between your friend's vengeance. The mountain deserves a far better death than a swift one after he maimed his brother over a simple trinket."

"I want to ask you a favor as well," Tyrion said seriously.

"Favors, favors…" Jon muttered to himself.  _For someone who is a bastard, I get an unusually high amount of favors._

"What do you require of me?" Jon asked. His voice was tight like how he was when given an assignment in the Golden Company. He never managed to get rid of it.

"This isn't a favor for me it's for Sandor. When he faces his brother don't let anyone interfere."

"Anyone?"

"If it comes down to it."

"Even the kingsguard?"

" **Anyone**."

"I'll give you a fourth bag," Tyrion added.

"The things I do for gold," Jon joked to himself before nodding. "I accept. He deserves this," he added more seriously.

Tyrion finally smiled. "Jon, I knew I can count on you. Sandor can now rest now that you are the one backing him up."

"Thank you for flattering me," Jon said, his voice dry as the sands in Dorne.

"Thank you for all the help you gave me," Tyrion answered back. "I will have Sandor deliver your gold to your tent in the morn."

Jon nodded.

Tyrion eyed the halls and spoke offhandedly. "If the people in the hall knew what you are capable of they would fatter you as well."

"They certainly will," Jon replied with ease.

"And make them believe that you are not a bad person."

"Sorry, Tyrion, but I don't have to do shit for these people," Jon said without a care. "I don't care."

Tyrion chuckled. "They are bootlickers for sure, my friend. Don't let them get under your skin."

"The southerners are not going to get under my skin."

Tyrion's face turned worried. "I'm just…concerned about you. All this stress is taking a toll on you."

"I know," Jon said low. He can't even deny it.

"I saw how you stormed out. What got to you?"

Jon didn't want to think about it, so he didn't reply.

Luckily or unluckily for him, Tyrion found his outlet. "The Targaryens."

"Aye."

Jon brought himself back to earth and straightened his back, a steely look in his lilac eyes. "I can't do anything about it, so let us not waste our time doing so."

"Jo-" Tyrion's words died because Jon turned his hard gaze to him. He stood with his arms pressed tightly to his sides, not allowing any emotion to show on his face.

"Alright then!" Tyrion became cheery and he turned around. "I don't know about you, but I'm going back to the feast for more wine. I'll see you then." His form disappeared as he turned the corner.

Jon silently mused. The place where he contemplated seemed like a decent fit for him, Silent, empty and all alone.

He shut down his troubles and walked back to the feast. The doors were wide open for him and the feast was still going. Robb and Arya jumped as he flopped into the seat and started casually started pilling food on his plate.

"You cooled off now?" Robb asked with Arya looking on.

 _Am I really?_ Jon mulled over the question, and then he smiled at them. "Yes. Kind of."

Jon didn't even last two minutes into his meal when he felt he was being watched again.

Jon's jaw clenched as he looked at the high table. The princess was still in the same pose, and her eyes were still on him. It was different from the stares everyone was handed to him for free because it was strange and different. It was a far cry from what Jon was used to. It didn't show fear or animosity or even the superiority of her rank. It was completely unreadable, and Jon had a hard time trying to interpret her gaze.

"What are you staring at?" Arya asked as she chewed, her mouth spitting bits of chicken on the table.

The few people next to them eyed the food on the table and sniggered. Robb licked his fingers and cleaned the mess with a cloth. "Don't chew with your mouth open, Arya," Robb said in exasperation.

"Shut up," Arya snapped back and going back to stare at Jon.

Robb followed his line of sight and grinned. "It seems the dragon princess is eyeing our wolf, sister."

"What!?" Arya asked too loudly, getting high in her seat as she tried to get a clear shot of the princess.

"Sit down," Jon said as he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back to her bottom. Arya glared at him, though she still tried to see the princess over his head.

Robb glanced at the dark-skinned princess and back to him with a familiar teasing smile on his face. Jon muttered and stared at his food with his utmost attention. He mentally willed his cousin to leave him alone.  _For god's sake Robb, please shut your mouth._

His efforts were fruitless.

Robb scooted closer to him and touched his shoulders with his. Arya seized upon this opportunity to scoot closer as well. Fortunately for Jon, there was a distraction at the perfect time.

"Robb Stark!" A sleek voice said in front of them. The man stopped to place his hands on the table, completely carefree in Jon's presence. He was tall and he stood proud. He wore a loose yellow garment and his eyes were dark and sharp with knowledge.

Jon can feel the confidence ooze from this man and he was instantly on guard. Right now the man didn't spare him a glance, but how long can that last…

Robb smiled, his face stretching across his pale face. He grasped the man's hand and shook it."Good to meet you, my lord. It pleases me that you are aware of my name, and thus it's only proper that I get to know yours as well."

"My name is Oberyn Martell," His voice had the common drawl of the dornish folk. Jon can now confirm that this man was indeed the red viper of Dorne.

"What do you need?" Robb asked politely, and Jon could tell his cousin is alert like he was.

"I require something." The response was cryptic and dangerous at the same time. The northern table watched them and Jon saw the dornish table watching too.

"And that is?"

"Not from you but from him," Oberyn announced, pointing at Jon. "I need something from you."

 _I knew it._ Whether he was a bastard or not, someone wanted something from him in the long run. The cycle continues.

The laughs stopped and so did the talking. He can feel the eyes peering them. Jon could feel one particular gaze sharpening and he resisted the impulse to glance at the high table.

"And that is, my lord?" Jon said calmly, repeating what Robb said a minute ago.

"A duel," Oberyn answered, dark eyes flashing.

Through the tables, people eyes widen and the talks spread. The air was quiet as everyone fell silent to hear.

"With you?" Robb asked, incredulously.

"No, with me," Someone said from one of the dornish tables. The man stood from the table and grinned at them, the smile full of arrogance. His silver hair was divided by a streak of black and his purple eyes were as threatening as they were dangerous, hinting what he can do. He was dressed nicely in a black garment and his face held a sneer as he looked at Jon.

"Who the fuck are you?" Jon asked, loose tongue. In truth, he was tired by now, and he didn't want to be bothered. He was starting to get a headache.

The dornish folk's face twisted with anger and someone yelled, "Show some respect bastard! This is ser Gerold Dayne! The Darkstar!"

Gerold actually looked proud, and the table of dorne looked smugly at Jon. Their smugness was broken in the most unexpected possible.

By Laughter.

Jon chuckled and chuckled, and soon his chuckles began to turn to laughter. Shocked eyes looked to each other in confusion and they became wary.

"Jon?" Arya's asked quietly, poking Jon's side as if he was ill in the head. Robb had the same look as he licked his lips, puzzled.

Darkstar seemed rattled, but he shook his head and demanded, "What are you laughing at bastard?"

"I am sorry, my Lord," Jon said, his face placid but his purple eyes were laughing. "Though I am laughing at you."

Darkstar snarled. "And for what reason bastard?" His tone was mocking and angry. In that effect, it made Jon angry as well.

"Your name," Jon answered coldly. This is going to get him in a lot of damn trouble. He is basically walking on thin ice right now. But he is tired of their shit and just wants to get this feast over with so he can go back to bed. He shouldn't be going back and forth with someone with a high status however, he couldn't find anything in himself to care.

Darkstar's smile was dark like he figured out something. "My name? Mine is fine unlike yours." He put his left arm and his other and tapped his finger on his lips in thoughtful action. "And what's yours? Oh right, you're a bastard. So its Snow."

The dornish were back to being smug as the hall laughed. Robb stared at his hard face. "Jon…" He warned, very silent and urging.

"Darkstar," He said, catching back the attention. Jon looked into Darkstar's cruel eyes and he freed himself. "The stars aren't dark, you stupid fuck." His voice was cool just like his face.

The cause and effect were immediate.

The dornish stood from their table and glared at them, fist shaking. The northern table stood as well to Jon's defense and curses flew in the great hall.

Just as it seemed like the argument was going to be a brawl, Aegon stood up and sharply clapped his hands. "Stop this! There is no fighting that's going to happen in this hall!"

Aegon stared at the fuming tables until they complied. His purple eyes turned to Jon and he said, "You should learn your place. You cannot be arguing with the highborn."

"Yes, my prince," Jon said, completely composed.

Darkstar grinned until Aegon turned to him as well. "And you need to stop arguing with a lowborn, and actually pretend that you're civilized."

Darkstar glared at the prince, but he answered anyway. "Yes, my prince."

Aegon stood to the people's wonder. He grinned as he looked to Jon and Darkstar, eyes excited. "I will not accept a pointless squabble but…I will accept a duel in this very hall!"

The tables began to get restless with energy and the hype is legitimate. Jon frowned, rubbing his beard. The proposal intrigued him.  _However…_

"Someone with a status like him," Rhaenys spoke, her voice sweet and people leaned in to hear her, "Cannot harm a lord unless it is a tourney," She explained, her eyes never straying from Jon.

Everyone nodded and their hype was ended. People sat back into their seats looking displeased. Jon could see the disappointment in their eyes.

"I lift the law," Aegon simply said to the excitement of many. He snapped his fingers and the servants carrying tourney swords and amour swept in the hall and stopped in the corners of the hall.

 _Was this planned or spontaneous?_  Jon had a feeling if Darkstar didn't challenge him the prince would've challenged him himself. The evidence was right in his face.

"Do you accept?" Aegon asked.

"I do, my prince," Darkstar replied smiling, a predatory gleam in his purple eyes.

Eyes landed on Jon's face, anxious for his answer. Arya grinned at Darkstar and looked at him confidently. "Fight him, Jon!"

 _This could expose my fighting style…_ Jon pondered to himself. From everybody else, the melee would start when the king and the queen arrives. Exposing the way he fights so early can harm him in the actual competition. On the other side, he wants to lay the cocky Darkstar on his ass.

Fist thumped on the table in a tempo as the hall chanted. Jon looked at his cousin to see what he thought only to see Robb's face was emotionless and so were his eyes.

"Spar!"

"Spar!"

"Spar!"

Jon's eyes met the princess's dark ones and he felt motivated. His worries washed away and he felt his boy burn.

He looked up to Aegon. "I accept."

Aegon boyishly grinned. "Good man!"

Tables were pushed to the side and the crowd circled Jon and Darkstar, who was being helped to put on their armor.

Robb finished putting on the last strap, and he slapped his armored shoulder. "You better win this, Jon."

Arya glared at her brother. "Of course he is going to win, stupid."

"He is the most dangerous man in Dorne," Robb said with a bit of worry as he looked across to Darkstar and back to Jon.

Jon closed his helmet visor and rolled his shoulders. "And I am the most dangerous man in the north."

He and Darkstar walked to the middle and stared each other down. From the high table, Aegon watched and finally, he clapped. "Begin!"

Darkstar was the first to move and aimed for his neck and he growled when Jon parried and struck his leg. Darkstar grimaced and attacked again, swinging his sword with grace. Jon met blow for blow and parried strike for a strike all the while targeting his foes left leg.

Jon and Darkstar clashed and clashed in the dance…with Jon leading it. More than once, Jon forced Darkstar to be in the inside with him hitting his blindside.

They spun and crashed their swords together and they challenged the other with their eyes as they tested whose strength is stronger. Jon used his free leg to kick Gerold in the left leg and Darkstar retreated with a hiss but engaged him again.

Jon was too slow to recover after missing his slice and he was punished. Darkstar hit him in the chest, then his right arm and elbowed him on his visor.

Jon stepped back and shook his head and scolded himself for his blunder. The two got back into their respective stances and circled the other.

Jon feinted as he threw his sword to his left hand and sliced downward. Darkstar was taken by surprise at his switch up and hastily parried the blow and shifted on his feet.

From there, Jon ever so often switched his fighting arm, using every angle possible to catch Gerold off guard. Just as Darkstar got used to him using his left arm, Jon swapped. It was an exotic movement that he knew Darkstar never faced before.

Darkstar was an offensive opponent. Therefore, Jon spent his time dancing around him to tire him out, and to make him more sluggish with his swings.

Darkstar was now a sweating mess. His face was covered by his sweat that fell to his eyes.

"You're just a bastard," Darkstar said in a trance as he tried to break Jon's defense, eyes blinking from the amount of his sweat. "You're just a bastard."

Jon didn't answer and continued pushing his blows aside. Gerold's next strike was sluggish and Jon caught his wrist mid-swing and smashed his helmet against his. A few people grimaced at the sound as Darkstar backpedaled, fighting to be on his feet.

Jon was now on the offensive. Darkstar was not suited for defense and was therefore weak against Jon's onslaught. Using a combination of punches and slices, he was able to slip by his guard.

Jon did what he wished with him.

Darkstar couldn't even raise his sword up for any masquerade of a defense. Darkstar could only stumble as Jon landed blow after blow on his chest plate.

"Your just…a bastard," Darkstar gasped out, his head turning to the side from another strike. "Just…a bastard."

This only made Jon strike harder.

He threw his sword to the ground and grabbed Darkstar's helmet. He forcibly connected his head with his knee and kicked him in his chest. Jon caught him from falling and kneed him in the chest four times before elbowing him again and letting him fall to the ground. Jon can feel his blood rushing and his arms quivering with the urge to finish his enemy. His dark mood was put to halt as Darkstar coughed loudly and started choking.

"Just a bastard…just a bastard," Darkstar uttered throatily. He seemed to be struggling to breathe as he gasped for breath and was shaking.

"That's enough! Snow is the victor!" Aegon said in a hurry. "Someone get the man out of his amour and get a maester!"

Nobody seemed to move as the shock was too real and the prince snapped. "Someone get moving!"

One of the servants snapped out of their stupor and moved down to the fallen Gerold. The other servants followed his lead and sought out to help him remove the armor.

The sounds in the hall were next to none, as Jon was eyed with fear and a hint of amazement and…a little of newfound respect.

Lord Umber stood up, raising his cup. "That man is the white wolf!"

"He is the white wolf!" The northern tables replied back in a strong shout. The other tables didn't share the shout, because they were too busy staring at Jon and the shaking Darkstar.

Jon breathed through his nostrils and looked at the princess. Rhaenys tilted her head in her hand and gazed at him with a soft smirk. This time, her eyes were not so guarded and Jon can now comprehend what's inside when she is staring at him. It was lust.

Jon would be totally lying if he said that he didn't feel the same.  _What the fuck, Jon? She is your sister!_

Jon dropped his sword to the ground and left the hall. As he was leaving, he only half realized that he was still wearing the armor.

**Robb**

"Oh, gods…" He muttered as Darkstar was fully rid of his armor and carried out of the hall. The table nodded at his words and stared after the shaking Gerold. Darkstar could only mutter as a response before he disappeared from the hall.

"The most dangerous man in dorne," Arya snorted in her cup.

Robb shushed her. "Don't let them hear you," He warned her as he glanced at the angry dornish table.

"This…was unexpected," A short lady said. She was dark skinned with a large bosom and thick legs.

"He agreed to the spar, cousin," Aegon responded to the lady. "Anything can happen."

"Gerold got what was coming to him, cousin," The princess said, her cheek still in her palm. "He is too confident for his own good and look where he is now. I wonder if he will be traumatized for life after this."

Robb found himself laughing with the others at her jab. It was unquestionably cruel to be laughing, though the man deserved it. His table shared his opinion as they begin to talk about the spar.

Aegon stood up and walked down from the high table. "I can safely say this must be the end of the night my friends. Let us retire and have the same energy for the morrow."

….

"Jon is going to win the tourney," Bran stated as the Starks headed for the camp.

"Nothing is for certain, Bran," Catelyn replied, she too was shocked.

"Did you not see what happened mother?" Arya asked, incredulous.

"There are a lot of knights that are going to have the same skill set, Arya," Sansa said.

"Moving one sword to the other hand back and forth is a skill set that I've never seen before," Alys said softly. "This means that he can wield two swords at the same time.

"That's nice," Rickon said in wonder, eyes shining brightly in the night.

"Wielding two swords," Arya muttered to herself. "Just like the rider,"

_Oh shit._

"That's something I wish that I know how to do," Robb said awkwardly, trying to put the similar concepts in the back of his families head.

It was most effective as everyone teased Rob for his inability to best Jon with a sword, but his mother still looked uncertain. Catelyn didn't say a word to anyone for the entire walk to the camp, frowning as they talked.

**Ned**

"This is a problem," Luwin whispered.

"Aye, it is," Ned replied, his voice low as the maesters and everybody else's as none made too much of noise to disturb the sleeping creature.

In the Godswood, the humongous form of the dragon sleeps. It was lying on the now broken down trees. The beast snoozed and the snow and the leaves blew in the air. As it was now dark, the dragon was nearly invisible due to its ebony texture.

Heads snapped to one direction as a branch snapped.

The dragon's eyes opened and a chilly emerald color stared at them all and a deep growl vibrated the ground that made snow fly in the air. The folks slowly stepped backward. The growling, however, didn't waver.

Ned's stomach dropped. "God's help us all…"


	13. Chapter 13

**Aegon**

"Are you having doubts now, nephew?" Viserys asked, stealthily hiding his smirk behind his goblet. "I told you beforehand that challenging a foe that you don't know of will be a bad plan." He rested his arms on the armrest of the chair and sighed. "It's like fighting a shadow."

He and his uncle sat in one of the guest rooms that Lady Whent had so graciously organized for them. Rhaenys, Margaery, Cersei, and their cousins were right down the hall and they were possibly gossiping what had happened like so many other folks right now.

Aegon tapped the side of his goblet, making a ticking sound. "You have ever had experienced fighting a shadow, uncle?"

Viserys let his arms sink until his eyes were over his goblet, eyes holding annoyance. "Don't be silly. I'm only making a comparison on what it could be like."

"You think I would've lost," Aegon drained his goblet and eyed his reflection from its shiny gold surface, having purple eyes staring back at him.

Viserys set down his goblet on the table and took his two hands and rubbed both of his thighs up and down. "Let me say this, if you would've to fight Snow, you would be on the floor shaking like Darkstar."

"That's not happening," Aegon replied, drifting his eyes to his uncles. "I would not let myself to be beaten down like that. I am trained by the best."

_Arthur and Barristan would be livid if my training was for nothing and rendered a shaking mess like Gerold._

"You do have that under your name," Viserys agreed. "Gerold is or was labeled as the best swordsman in dorne. Oberyn surely is being named such now. The people of dorne is embarrassed."

Aegon can tell they were embarrassed. As the hall was being emptied, the northerners and everyone else had mocked the dornish for their inflated egos. He is ashamed too because of him being tied to dorne through his mother's blood. But not Rhaenys, and Aegon was taken back. His sister took after her dornish blood more than he and yet, he could even see his sister's small smirk as they left the hall.

_What could that mean?_

"Gerold is talented," Aegon said. "He is also too impatient and rash into trying to break Snow's defense."

"Yes," Viserys said. "And you think that you can best the bastard?"

 _I don't know_.

Aegon didn't know and that didn't happen often. If it were any other person, he would immediately say yes. Not doing so now did not sit well with him. The melee is not too far and therefore he has to be confident.

"I don't know."

Viserys smiled, pleased with something that only he knows. "Good. You should be afraid. Facing someone who wields two swords is not the best thing that can happen to you."

"I'm not afraid."

Viserys stared at him. A long moment passed then he nodded. "Ok, I'm going to believe you." He then held up his index finger. "But…don't assume that I'm placing my gold on you in the melee."

Aegon resisted rolling his eyes, and he sunk in his chair.  _Typical uncle._

They sat in easy silence, each in their own thoughts. "How is Margaery?"

Aegon snapped out of his thoughts only to dive back deeper into it. For the truth, the Tyrell is not as dreadful as he has foreseen. Margaery is a little smug at times but other than that she is an ordinary girl at heart with a sharp mind and a quick tongue. For all of her positivity's, she is still not the woman he craved and thus is distant from her. Aegon can see how she is craving for his attention and is hurt when she doesn't obtain it and didn't know the reason why. They didn't ever sleep together since that one time to seal their wedding night. That was it.

"Fuck," Aegon murmured, putting his head in his palms.

"What did you say?"

"Margaery is fine."

"Ok," Viserys said, by the sound of his voice he isn't sure of it.

Aegon lifted his head and leaned into his seat. "How are things with Cersei?" He asked with a smirk, knowing how his uncle is going to react.

He was right as Viserys ranted about his loving wife. "She is still a miserable bitch. That fucking lioness does nothing but complain. She spends every day talking about how we shouldn't be living at dragon stone. Even during sex, she has something to complain about. 'Why is it so dark in here? It smells. Why the sheets are not warm enough. Why aren't you warm enough? Why can't you be more like Rhaegar?'"

Aegon couldn't stop himself from chuckling, and he almost spilled the wine from his mouth as he took a sip. He made sure that he swallowed correctly and smiled. "A very loveable couple you two make."

Viserys scowled, his handsome face turning and twisting in scorn. "No. Rhaegar should have never made a betrothal with me and that bitch."

His uncle's eyes were hard. Aegon's father and his uncle argued furiously as soon as the family was aware of it. It was heated and intense as it seemed it would continue for hours. Their relationship was never the same afterward, and it didn't get the chance to because Viserys- after marrying the Lannister- left for dragon stone and the two never saw each other since.

Aegon wanted to change the topic and so he did. "How is Tommen?"

Instantly his uncle's eyes brightened. While he didn't love Cersei, but no one can dare claim that he didn't have a love for his son. Tommen is a little boy with golden hair, green eyes with a bright smile and a knack for sweets.

"He is the son I've ever wanted," Viserys said, his smile not leaving his face. "He is learning his sums at an extraordinary rate, and his skill with a sword grows with every passing day."

"That is good," Aegon said. "What about Joffrey?"

The dark look that crossed his uncle's face was unmistakable. Viserys reached for his goblet and jugged it with one gulp. He breathed loudly and looked at him. "I should have never sent him to foster with Tywin Lannister. It's just…Cersei never stopped nagging me about him learning under his father, saying that he will never become a man unless her father took him under his wing." Viserys seethed, the air going through his teeth as he hissed. "I hate having to say this about my own flesh and blood, but Joffrey turned into a little shit."

Viserys face was mixed between disappointment and shame. Aegon cannot bring himself to say that he is wrong. From the lovable child that Joffrey used to be, he is now a pompous brat that thinks he is above everyone else, especially Tommen. Sooner or later, it's going to be that same attitude that is going to get him smacked in the mouth.

"If Tywin was present, I would kick the old lion in his fucking face." From the sheer anger on his uncle's face, his words were not said in jest. "I should've sent him to Ned Stark."

Aegon sits up in his chair with the quickness. "I don't think that would've been a good idea, uncle. The north still holds resentment for us."

"Ned Stark is honorable," Viserys replied. "He would not dare harm an innocent boy who had no part in the rebellion. Besides, it could've made a path to healing wounds with us and them."

_My uncle has good sense._

"What do you think we should do to mend things then?" Aegon asked, pouring more wine in his goblet before silently offering his uncle the same.

Viserys held his goblet out as Aegon poured some in his. "Marriage."

"More?" Aegon asked. Unknown to him, his hands curled into fists. "What more can be done through that?"

Viserys sipped and licked his lips. "Your sister is unmarried and there are plenty of northern suitors walking about. Most notably, Domeric Bolton."

"Rhaenys is not going to like that," Aegon responded, knowing his older sister. "She wants to find a man that 'matches her'."

"How long is that going to take I wonder?" Viserys inquired. "Her time is running out."

"Her time is never going to run out because she is not the crown prince," Aegon countered, a bit bitter. "Our father is giving her all the time she desires without actually saying anything, but I know."

Viserys nodded, not saying a word.

Perhaps the reason why he and his uncle were this close was because of the unwanted betrothal placed upon them. Perhaps they felt they were wronged and wanted to find a comrade that shared the pain and find a way to endure it with a cup of enjoyable wine.

Sometimes he and his uncle just sat with each other alone and talk about how much they missed out on happiness and what could have happened if they weren't royalty. Truly, Aegon finds himself being depressed at how hard he was thinking about this.

Within seconds, his goblet was empty so he poured another. When he drained that too he poured another and another…and another. His vision became hazy and from where he sat, his uncle separated into two people with more than one head. His breath came out uneven, and his arm wobbled as he tipped the goblet to his mouth to devour the sweet vintage. By doing so, his vision became even poorer than it already was.

Now comes the more intimate and more personal feelings. In this room…with his uncle as his only company, he can shred his personality of the crown prince…and simply be Aegon. Viserys nodded at his slurred words, not judging, his eyes glazed over from the drink just like his. Through the conversation, his uncle had the good grace to not mention a certain Targaryen.

Sometime later, Viserys stood up and his feet were shaky. "Good...Talk. I'll see you…you around…"

Then he left.

Aegon didn't move to get in his bed. He stayed in his chair and just gazed at his reflection from the goblet.

**Rhaenys**

From the very first look at him, her world has been turned upside down. His lean body, flexed with muscle. Brown hair, almost black, curled in the most possible way how. His beard, neatly trimmed across his jaw. And lastly, his lilac eyes, darker than anyone's in her family, made her catch her breath when he holds her gaze when many others failed. When he holds her stare, Rhaenys had to stop her hand from going down below when the feast was still going on. Rhaenys couldn't keep her eyes off him.

She was at her tipping point when he stared down Gerold, his face cold and his eyes unreachable. Even when he is a bastard, he didn't let himself get oppressed by the people from Dorne and it was enjoyable to watch and she replayed the scene a dozen times in her head. All of her restraint nearly became undone when he donned the armor that was handed to him and obliterated 'dark star'. The skill he showed awed her and the rest of the lords in that hall. Her brother was amazed too even if he didn't want to admit it.

_Egg is going to struggle against him, but he is too proud to say it._

She shouldn't be lusting over a bastard, one from the north at that. But she can't stop her heart from beating when she looks at him. It is insane. She has suitors waiting for her hand and none of them had her feeling like this.

A snap of fingers next to her ears jarred her from her thoughts. Arianne giggled at her dirty look and nodded her head at Margaery who looked at her in amusement. "I asked you a question, princess. You were in your own world."

The group of ladies in the room giggled. Rhaenys smiled back at her. "My apologies. What were you saying?"

"I asked about what you thought about the spar tonight, princess," Margaery asked.

Rhaenys wanted to say it was amazing, and that it made her more aroused than she had in a long time. Instead, she calmed herself and said, "It was a good spar."

"How could he learn to swing a sword like that?" Nymeria asked out loud. If anyone was bothered by her bastard cousin having a word, no one batted an eyelash. The sand snakes from dorne were also in the room, sitting close to her.

"Practice," Obara said, lazily. The eldest of the sand snakes had the most talent with the spear out of all her sisters. Being trained by the red viper himself makes her a person who shouldn't be underestimated. Nymeria, Obara, and Tyene had a short talk about the man's prowess of the sword and compared it to theirs.

The other ladies in the room didn't chide the bastards for joining the conversations, nor did they reply. Rhaenys could guess why it was because she was here. No women in the room would take the gamble to insult her cousins in her presence. She could even say that the sand snakes were getting overconfident at the power she had over anyone else.

"Lady Dayne will not be pleased with what happens tonight," Margaery said, looking right at Rhaeyns.

"No, she won't," Rhaenys answered. That was entirely in the wrong. Ashara will be joyful when she gets informed about what had happened. Gerold was not loved in dorne, even his family didn't love him. The only reason their party backed him up was that they were bickering with the north. Their disdain for the north shadowed what they felt for Gerold. Rhaenys father's affair with Lyanna stark placed Dorne in a tight space with the king and the north.

"The poor Darkstar is not going to be the same. I expect him to have a further collision with Snow. His pride yearns for it," Arianne said. The buxom women had been taking Gerold in bed for a while now, and only the sand snakes and Rhaenys knew. And Rhaenys knew that it will end based on the slight scowl on her cousin's face. The beating that she saw must have persuaded her to cut ties.

"Let's talk about it and…some other good things about this Snow," Arianne said, smirking. It was obvious what good things she was talking about.

"For a bastard, he is very handsome," A lady said, from Margaery's left.

"Not just handsome, I would even call him beautiful," Another lady said, near the previous speaker.

Out of nowhere, a shot of jealousy burned into Rhaenys's chest. It was quick and unwanted. She is a princess, not a swooning girl in the tales.

"From what I heard about this Snow, his appearance is a complete surprise. Wouldn't you agree with me ladies?" Arianne asked the whole room.

The ladies nodded and Rhaenys nodded too. Before the feast, if someone said the name Jon Snow, a picture of a disheveled man with an ugly face and cruel eyes were in her head. She spotted him easily in the hall, his height helped that. All of her hunches were put to the rest as Snow looked at her for the first time. It blew her breath away as if he struck her himself instead of hitting Gerold.

"He is going nowhere," Cersei said with a sneer on her lips. "You are forgetting that he is a bastard." Her words were met with silence. She rolled her eyes and sipped her wine.

"If only he isn't a bastard," Arianne wondered. Rhaenys can tell it was a fool's act. No status is going to stop her or the sand snakes from bedding the men they wanted. It's just who they were. Rhaenys herself bedded a couple of men in the past while in Dorne.

They proceeded to talk about Jon Snow and their opinions about the white wolf of Essos. Margaery mostly stayed out of the chat to no one's surprise. Then the topic shifted on who is going to emerge from the joust, the melee, the singing competition, and the archery.

Out of the men, the north was not mentioned in any way. Rhaeyns found it amusing. Regardless of what Jon Snow did, the north is still being underestimated. She joined the conversation a little bit to share her thoughts but mostly opted to sit in silence.

_The gathering in this castle is turning out to be interesting._

When the talks begin to die, Rhaenys sat up and declared that the night was over. Everyone left the room except for her cousins who planned to share the night with her. When others find it weird to sleep with other grown women, they find it normal.

She slipped from her gown and into her sleep dress. Arianne and Tyene went in her bed while Obara and Nymeria shared the other bed. Rhaenys lay in her bed, not going to sleep yet, just listening to the silent snores of her cousins. Before long, she closed her eyes and fell to sleep like the rest, purple eyes still visible from behind her eyelids.

**Aegon**

His daze state was put to end by the soft opening of the door, not soft enough for him to miss but not loud enough to make him startle and for that he glanced at her. Margaery closed the door and looked at him with a small smile, almost expectant. Aegon didn't know if it was for attention or something else but she didn't get any. He turned back to stare at the goblet.

His ear picked up the sound of her sighing and her taking off her dress. Aegon gulped down another round of wine and continued to stare at his reflection.

"Please stop drinking," Margaery said, taking off her necklace and placing it on the small table next to her side of the bed.

"Go to bed, my lady," Aegon replied, still drinking. This was his night. This was the night where he cannot be the crown prince and simply be him. It might be a long time when he can do this again. Normally he doesn't drink this much but, he can make exceptions for this night

"Drinking this much is not like you," Margaery said.

"People can't be themselves all the time," Aegon said dryly. "The prince of the seven kingdoms can relax now and then."

Margaery didn't respond and when she did it was sterner. "Come to bed. A husband must sleep beside his wife."

Aegon took his time to answer and it came out in a jumbled mess. "Don't worry…I'll be there."

"No, you are not. When have you ever slept beside me? Was it our wedding night?"

Aegon kept his attention on the goblet, too much wine in his system to full reply to her or else he will make himself look like an idiot.

Margaery sighed again and went on to prepare for bed. Aegon couldn't tell if it was the drink but he could hear the sadness in her breath. He turned in his seat and watched her as she picked out a set of clothing, unaware of his prying eyes.

Aegon grimaced, pressing a hand against his forehead, as a whimper escaped his mouth before he can stop it. Margaery stopped what she was doing and glanced at him. "Are you ok?"

Aegon nodded and she continued with her task. The prince eyed her form, getting dizzier and dizzier with every passing glance he did over her womanly form.

For a moment, Margaery's hair turned silvery-blond. Aegon blinked and the illusion went away like smoke. Her hair changed back to brown. Aegon chuckled. Margaery gave him another quick glance then went back to what she was doing.

This time, when the imaged changed, it was the shape of a Targaryen.

Dany looked at him then, her plump lips moving as she spoke. "Aegon?" She was wearing the same dress that she wore when she left, and he wanted to remove it.

She was here, in the flesh. He could make everything right. And this time she would not leave him.

Aegon took one last sip from his goblet, and he slammed it on the table. He almost fell over, but he managed to walk over to where she was. He took her by the waist and smashed his lips against hers. Daenerys gasped in his mouth but soon she accepted his passion and returned the kiss. Aegon leads her to bed, and he left his clothes on the floor.

…

Aegon rolled back to his side of the bed, breathing hard as sweat fell upon his bare chest. Daenerys lay on his arm, breathing as loud as he. Aegon smiled, rubbing her back as she shivered at his touch. He placed his head on top of her and whispered, "Dany."

Aegon was as shocked as he could be, when he received a sharp slap on his cheek, jarring his head away from Dany. He softly touched his cheek, maybe thinking that mark on his face was not real. He looked down, not to see Dany, but Margaery. Even when her brown eyes were cold from anger, they were hurt as well. She sniffed and rolled to her side, back facing him. She pulled the blanket over her naked body as if to conceal it from his unfocused eyes and nothing else was said. The damage has been done.

Aegon closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on what just happened. Dany was just beside him…

The drunken state that held over him departed, only just a little for Aegon to understand what the problem was. Immediately he felt so much guilt and he started to get sick in the stomach. He sat up and placed a hand on Margaery's shoulder, shaking her.

"Margaery," Aegon called. His wife didn't respond. He didn't know if she was asleep or if she was tuning him out. Aegon couldn't blame her if she did either of those.

 _I am not good for her._  Aegon decided quietly.  _How am I supposed to be a good king if I can't treat my wife with the proper respect that she deserves?_

 _My father disrespected my mother when he ran with Lyanna and is still a good king…_ Aegon cut his traitorous thoughts in half like how a sword would do. His father kept reminding him that he wanted him to be a better king than he was, and Aegon was going to fulfill the king's dream. It the least he can do to ease his father's pain over his misfortune in the rebellion.

Aegon touched Margaery's shoulder one last time before laying his head on his pillow and letting the darkness of sleep consume him.

**Jon**

…

It was too early in the morning for Jon to be mindlessly walking through the castle. He woke up in his tent feeling hungry, so he wanted to find the kitchen to get something to eat. He avoided going to the great hall to break his fast because of what happened last night. Having everyone stare at him served him no good right now, or else he would send another person into a shaking fit.

The way his stomach growled only made him hungrier and more irked and that made him walked down the halls faster. Time passed, and more people arouse from their slumber and walked by as they gave him fleeting looks.

In his haste to find the kitchens, he almost bumped into a lady who was holding trays of food. The lady struggled to hold them all and Jon moved to help her by taking one from her left hand. Jon had the chance to look her over. She had short raven black hair and blue eyes like the lakes he seen near the castle. Her face was held in much seriousness, though she was pretty.

She smiled at him and said, "You have my thanks ser."

Jon put the tray on his dominant hand and started walking along with the lady. "I am no ser."

The lady didn't seem too offended with his bluntness and said, "My apologies, you have the look of one. I also didn't catch your name."

"My name is Jon Snow."

"Ned Stark's bastard?"

"Aye. I am."  _Even a bastard can be well known here it seems._

"My name is Mya stone, Robbert Baratheon's bastard," She said as if it had no effect on her. "I would've shaken your hand if I could."

"No harm was done," Jon responded. "What is the chance that you came here?"

"I am the handmaid of Rhaenys Targaryen," Mya said, not seeing how he tensed.

"Are these trays for her?" Jon had to ask, the trays feeling heavier in his hands. The way the princess' eyes looked at his was too livid to forget, so it was still on his mind. He turned slightly apprehensive at the chance to meet her again, and it made him angry at feeling so.

"No," Mya answered. "This is for Robb Stark and his group of friends around the god's eye."

"Let me take the trays for you. I was going to find him on the way," Jon said. It was a white lie because it was only a part of the full truth. If he couldn't eat from the kitchens, he will eat with his cousin. And it was only polite to carry the food for her.

Mya eyed him up and down, frowning. "I don't think you can car-"

Before she can finish her sentence, Jon took the two other trays and balanced it on his arms. He looked away from the trays to grin at the handmaid. "Don't worry. I'm stronger than I look, my lady."

Mya retrained her shocked look, but it went away just as fast as it appeared. "I did not doubt your strength. I have seen your spar with Gerold Dayne."

"This is the time we must part, my lady," Jon said, politely. He called her a lady not to mock her for being a bastard but to simply be polite. He calls everyone a lady. It's one of his only morals. "If you find yourself free from your duties, come and chat with me."

Mya looked at him for a time, her face serious just like his. Being raised as a bastard makes people mature quicker than their higher status counterparts and it showed. With how cautious they talk, more wary of other folks and simply being more humble.

She gave him a curt nod. "If I have the time I will look for you." She helped him by giving him some directions to find the gods eye and left.

Jon knew for sure that he did not imagine the small smile on her face as she walked away. The same smile was on his face too. Jon knew first hand that only a few people came out to talk to him and that made him lonely even if he refuses to believe that. Mya must have the same issue if not worse for being the baseborn daughter of the usurper and being the handmaid to the daughter of the king. There is no harm to talk to her, not to Jon anyway.

Jon traveled through the castle and out to the open, careful to not drop the trays and not be too slow to annoy Robb for the lateness. He had done this for the head of the company for a while also. Everyone was confused as he when he started carrying food for him and why he was ordered to eat with him too. Harry liked to blab to himself, liking the sound of his own voice. Jon had no clue why he spoke to him of all people but he just sat in his chair, patient to get the hell out of there most of the time.

It was the perfect time to be out. The air was warm, clouds white and puffy while the sun shooting rays of light down on him. The green plains were never short of grass and trees. Jon stopped to stare at nature before walking on.

Several lords and ladies walked about, talking and laughing as they sat in the grass. Jon searched for Robb but he couldn't see him anywhere. Faces he had never seen before was the only thing in sight.

"Jon!"

Jon turned to his right to see Robb with Theon, Domeric and some other young men under a large tree for shade. He walked over and set the trays in the middle of the group with ease.

"Damn, Jon," Robb said, grinning at the food as Jon sat next to him. "With your hair and the way you carry those trays some bloke would mistake you for a maid!"

The group sniggered. Jon let it die before replying, "And some bloke would mistake you for a baby in swaddling with that face of yours."

Without knowing, Robb touched his face in bafflement. The group laughed at the Stark for a few lingering minutes before letting up.

Robb stared at the group, one man at a time before smiling. "The time for laughter is over my lords. Let us eat!"

They whooped and started grabbing. When Jon grabbed a piece of bacon, Domeric said softly, "Snow, eat all the food you want."

The group nodded and Theon spoke next, "He should. What he gave to Darkstar last night must have left him hungry!"

They cheered, taking folks that were nearby by surprise. One or two men even got up to clap him on the back in congratulations. Jon stared at Theon, wondering why he would say that. Theon saw this and nodded at him before returning to his food.

_Maybe Theon wants the grudge with me to stop._

Jon pondered on what it might be like if he and Theon would actually be friends when Theon said, "Alright, my lords. Let's talk about something interesting!"

"What might that be?" Domeric asked.

Theon had that kind of smile that Jon and Robb were very familiar with. The two glanced at the other and back to Theon.

"The gorgeous ladies that came to this tourney of course," Theon answered. "There are a lot of them."

Robb sighed. "What about them, Theon?" From the way he asked, the Stark had to deal with this before and he did.

Theon eyes were lit up from the passion he enjoyed talking about the most. "They are amazing!"

"If they are amazing why don't you try to talk to them," Domeric advised. A soft breeze of wind had the leaves on the tree above them wave.

Theon's face was unsure. Jon can count the number of times the Greyjoy wore that expression when it comes to women and that said much.

"I don't know how this southern girls act," Theon said after a pause.

"When has that stopped you, Theon?" Robb asked.

"Obviously now," Theon sarcastically said. "But I have a list in my head."

"What list?" Jon asked.

"The list of the most beautiful women," Theon replied, a big smile on his face as he looked around the plains.

They looked at Theon in shock and Domeric said, "A list? That is a tough thing to do with the ladies that we have here."

"And that's what makes it fun, my lord,"

"Call me Domeric."

"Who is on your list? And how many?" Jon asked.

"The maximum is three," Theon said and he looked around. "My chosen is Margaery Tyrell, Arianne Martell, and the princess."

"That's a good list," Jon had to agree. The three women have been getting stares from the men since the opening feast and it was most definitely not going to stop.

"What about you, Dom?" Robb said to the Bolton.

Domeric hummed and smiled at them. "I'm going to keep my opinion to myself until everyone else arrives. Daenarys Targaryen and Ashara Dayne are rumored to be beauties as well. Don't dismiss them yet."

"I see, Domeric. Playing the safe smart man," Theon said, biting into a fruit.

"And you, Jon?" Robb asked. "Wait, I shouldn't have asked. He has one woman on his list. And that is the one and only dragon princess, Rhaenys Targaryen."

_What the hell, Robb?_

Everyone laughed at him, even Domeric, though he did it more quietly while the others laughed in the air.

_Robb knows that she is my half-sister!_

Theon managed to stop his laughing to ask Robb, "Does that mean he is…"

"Aye, he is!" Robb finished, laughing as he fell into the grass.

Jon had enough. "Well," Jon started as he got to his feet and wiping himself for grass. "I'm done here."

Robb looked like he was about to say something until he fell into the grass and continued laughing. The laughs followed Jon as he left.

Jon fights the smile that wanted to be on his face. It was a lost battle and he walked through the plains with a small smile on his face.

The smile was gone as he saw another group who lazily sat on the grass that was not too far away from where he stayed. The crown prince, the princess, the man with the beard and Mya ate their breakfast as they chatted to themselves.

 _They don't see me._  Jon reassured. He turned around and only took one step before a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Where are you going, Snow?!" It was the crown prince, no doubt he had seen him walking. Jon closed his eyes and opened them.

Jon turned around and called out back. "Back to the castle, my prince!" If this calling out to each other kept going, it would actually be humorous.

The prince waved him over and Jon couldn't anything else but obey. Rhaenys slightly gasped at the sight of him, but Jon kept his legs moving until he stood in front of the group.

"Do you wish to eat with us?" Aegon asked.

"I have to refuse, my prince," Jon said. He couldn't be the only one to spot the princess narrow his eyes. "I shared my meal with my brother," Jon said, keeping his eyes securely on the prince and not to the woman next to him.

Aegon nodded, not put off by his refusal. "Ok then-"

"Surely you have more room in your stomach to eat, sit," Rhaenys said.

"Your, Highness," Jon started, trying to find an excuse to escape her eyes. The emotions that stirred up in him at her stare left him strange and uncomfortable.

"Sit," Her voice had the distinct that she was not having a refusal for an answer. Jon looked to the prince and the bearded man. They didn't speak but he did sit down.

Jon looked at the trays, his eyes looking. He settled for an apple and grabbed the fruit, taking a bite out of it.

"There is no reason for you to be hesitant into eating with us," Rhaeyns said, taking a sausage. "You can have more than an apple."

Jon met her eyes and said, "I am not hesitant about eating, your highness. I just like to savor the things I want." Immediately he swore in his mind as the princesses eyes widen in shock.

_Did I just flirt? And I think the princess knew what I said._

Jon looked to the others to see if they heard the subtle meaning and to his relief, they heard none as they chatted to themselves, Mya only listening politely. The handmaid hadn't said a word to him yet and Jon understood well. Technically, she is still on duty and she kept to herself.

Rhaenys smiled a small stretch of her mouth that caught Jon's breath. "I like to savor my food as well. We have something in common then."

Jon looked into her eyes, very well understanding what she said. There were women that were blunt and there were others that were crafty with their words but he is not a fool.

"That's good to know," Jon said.

"Your spar with Gerold Dayne was most impressive," Rhaenys said. "Your sword charms my eye."

Her sentence was innocent enough, though Jon wasn't positive that she is talking about the sword around his waist or the other one.

"Thank you, my princess," Jon said. He and the princess stared at the other when the man with the beard spoke, cutting in between the staring.

"You have my congrats," Viserys said to him. "Though, you were a little too harsh on Gerold."

Before Jon could say what he thought about 'being too harsh', Rhaenys went to his defense. "There is no such thing as too harsh when you have armor on and a sword in your hands."

"It was only a spar."

"It was a spar in which Gerold wanted and he got it," Rhaenys snapped. Her quick wit makes Jon more wanting for her to speak again.

Viserys was more amused than angry, and he smiled a little. "As you wish, my niece. I was only pointing something out."

The princess was not finished. "And your pointing out was incorrect. As a man who spars as well, I expected you to know."

Aegon broke in, a grin on his face. "Get off him, sister. He had enough scolding. Isn't that right, Snow?"

"Aye, he had enough," Jon said. The princess looked at him, a slightly sheepish look in her eye.

"Tell me this Snow," Aegon said. "Who taught you to wield a sword in both hands?"

"I taught myself, my prince." The prince nodded.

"It is extraordinary," Rhaenys said. Jon looked at her for a second before turning to the eggs.

"Am I beautiful to you, Snow?" Rhaenys asked, still watching him.

"Yes, your highness," Jon replied. If anyone said she was unpleasant, they deserved to be thrown into Cannibals fire. The princess was a true beauty from Dorne with olive skin and brown hair. The prince took after his father with his pale skin and flowing white-blond hair.

"Why did you look away from me?"

Jon frowned at this.  _She wants me to stare._ He glanced at the other three to see they engaged in a conversation, leaving him alone to talk with the princess.

"I am a bastard," Jon said. It was the easiest thing to say as he had been saying the words for all of his life. It was his free pass card. "It would be rude if I was caught staring."

"That didn't stop you before," Rhaenys said, brown eyes keen as she watched him.

Jon kept quiet. His uncle told him if he was uncertain it was best to stay silent. She is right. That hasn't stopped him from meeting her gaze last night as he stood victorious over Gerold. But that was different. Up close in her proximity, made his hair on his arm stand on end and it quickened his breathing. It felt more real.

"Well?" Rhaenys asked, more of a demand than anything.

Jon didn't have to answer as a group of three walked to them. It was two golden-haired boys and the golden-haired woman from last night that sat at the high table. The woman looked at them with a sneer as if she was dragged to be here.

"Hello father," The younger one of the boys greeted.

Viserys stood up and hugged him. "Hello, Tommen." He turned to the other boy and became more solemn. "Hello, Joffrey."

"Hello to you as well father," Joffrey said, not looking at his father or hugging him.

"Come and sit," Viserys said as he sat back down, not glancing at the haughty women.

"What is she doing here?" Cersei asked, looking at Mya with a glare. "A bastard shouldn't be among us." Mya didn't rise to her voice, merely staring at the princess as if she is waiting for a command to leave.

"That bastard you are talking to is my handmaid, my lady," Rhaenys said, "And she is staying."

Cersei huffed. Her eyes landed on Jon and she sneered. "Now, he isn't your handmaid, he is just an upstart bastard. Be gone."

Jon stood up, not showing anger as he stared at her. "Of course 'my lady', I am indeed an upstart bastard. I will leave. I am not worthy to be in your presence." His sarcasm was so evident that Viserys chuckled in his sleeve. His chuckle went unnoticed because everyone's eyes were on Jon as he turned to leave. Jon heard the princess stand and say something, but Jon is walking too quick.

Rhaenys protested for him to stay, but Jon walked off, not even asking to be dismissed. It was likely that he will get in trouble later on for his rudeness but the princess was getting too overwhelming. Jon was glad that the kingsguard wasn't with them. They would've forced him to stay for as long as the princess desired.

As Jon left the gods eye, he remembered about the gift that was supposed to be brought to his tent.  _I completely forgot about the gold._

He did not run nor did he jog, but he speed walked through the castle and to the northern camp. He saw a few markets and set it on his what to do list after he had time.

He walked deeper into the camp and saw his tent in the distance and the tall man next to it. The man's face was horribly burnt, and he wore a twisted smile and a suit of armor that would make a few stabs struggle to pierce through. He was big and dwarfed Jon with ease.

"You are Snow," The hound said, and his breath smelled like wine.

"Aye."

"Your payment is there." Sandor gestured to the four bags next to him. "The big fucking wolf in your tent started growling at me when I tried to bring them in."

Jon wanted to laugh at the frightened look in the man's eyes but chose not to. Out of thin air, a picture of this big man pissing his breeches as Ghost bark at him made him chuckle anyway.

Sandor heard him and growled, face twisting as if he was a demon from the deepest hell. "What?"

"Nothing," Jon said. "I don't want to mess with my wolf either."

"I'm done here," Sandor said as he strode past him, his armor jiggling. "Farewell, bastard."

Jon stared after him, taken back by the man's curt departure. Instead of mentioning the deal he made with Tyrion, he just left.

Chuckling, he picked up a coin from a bag and bit it. "I like him."


	14. Chapter 14

**Gerold Dayne**

Darkstar did not know how long he has been lying in bed or when he got here. Nor did he know how they brought him to this room but he didn't care, he won't have to face the mocking smiles he would get from the other great houses or even his own people. He'd been shamed. He had been humiliated in front of his people, Arianne, and the  **prince** _._  He'd been shamed…by a bastard. It wasn't even an ordinary bastard that was exceptional with the sword; it was a bastard from the bloody  **north** _._  The north is just a frozen land with barbaric lords that pretended that they run a household. The rebellion proved that when the north ran away from the Targaryens like the cowards they were, instead of fighting to the death as he would have. To be beaten by a bastard from that land…it grated on his nerves like never before and made his pride hurt more than it already does. His sword arm was the only thing he has.

He is the best swordsman in dorne, no matter what the red viper hisses out, he is the best. And despite that all, he was defeated soundly. Not just that, he might've even said that he was tortured by the white wolf. Snow's offensive was different and wild with his sword seeming to move in every direction at once, and his defense nearly matches it.

The white wolf. Darkstar was instantly intrigued when that name slithered its way into the ears of dorne. In Essos, they say that he killed a hundred men with just fifty soldiers aiding him. They say that he was the best commander that the Golden Company ever had at such a young age. They say that he is a legend and that he was the best swordsman that ever walked. They even said that he and his wolf was the reason why the Dothraki's disappeared, to never be heard of again. Snow's reputation was not just boasted in good things, they were darker things as well that would make sailors stop talking about their ships to talk about the bastard instead.

Snow was the only topic that Dorne talked about, and Darkstar was jealous that they talked about the bastard more than he. He was one of their own, not him! And since then, Darkstar waited anxiously to be given a chance to expose the bastard that he was not as great as people suggested that he was and that Gerold himself was better. The seven kingdoms would praise him, only him. Darkstar thought the bastard wouldn't know what hit him. That was why he challenged the white wolf in the middle of the feast, right in front of everyone… only to be left shaking as if the seven willed their power to fill his body with the contempt that they surely felt about him.

He'd been shamed…

Shamed…

Shamed…

Darkstar closed his eyes to block the warm tears of frustration that desperately wanted to flow down his cheeks as the disgraced word repeated in his mind. His image was ruined, his house was embarrassed and he was going to get mocked as soon as he left the door of this room. He was so used to getting fear and hate from people that if they start to change to mock then he would explode.

Abruptly, fury flourished in his chest at the thought of  **him.**  like the house words of the Tyrells, the fury grew and it grew strong until saliva would drip from his mouth and onto his chest that was free of armor.

His fury would surely erupt if he glanced at the person who casually sat in a chair in the corner of the room.

Jon Snow eyed him with calmness at the sight of the saliva that was escaping from his mouth as he leaned in his chair. Darkstar kept his eyes on the ceiling of the room, not taking the chance to glance at the bastard. He feared that if he does, then his composer will shatter and he knew that the white wolf carried a sword while he did not. He and Snow sat in silence, it was deafening as neither spoke.

"You finally stopped shaking," Jon said in the face of the silence.

Darkstar clenched his fist but said nothing; though, he couldn't hide the sharp breath he took. He certainly stopped shaking, but the bruises over his body were still painful. He was clothed in a purple tunic and pants but he wondered who stripped him of his clothes and who would be willing to do that without taking the chance to laugh at him while he slept.

"You spent two nights in this room. I did not think that you would recover, my lord," Jon added, carrying on as if he replied. "Your people are getting worried at your absence."

Darkstar snorted before he can stop himself.  _They surely don't miss my presence. They are probably going to be too ashamed to look at me. Arianne even more so._

"You're good at wielding a sword," Jon said, efficiently changing the subject. "You must be the best challenge that I've faced ever since I killed Khal Drogo. However, it was not enough to stop me from giving you a good thrashing I'm afraid."

Jon's face was of a well-placed sorrow and sympathy. Darkstar felt his chest burn, he didn't look at the bastard directly, but he can see him from the corner of his eye and it made him rage. He can see a smirk on the white wolfs face as he talked.

_He comes in here…to small talk?! He is rubbing my lost in my face! Damn him!_

"You must be thinking why I've come here after I knocked the stars out of you. You see, I came here to say-"

Red filled his vision, and his fury tripled tenfold.  _I will not let this bastard mock me anymore!_  He had just been defeated right in the great hall, and his name was forever ruined. Now, when the bastard comes to mock him after what happened? Darkstar wanted to kill him!

Darkstar jumped from his bed and crossed the room to swing at Jon's face. His attack was immediately blocked and as Jon held his hand, he punched him right on the nose. Darkstar retreated only for the bastard to follow with more punches to the chest. One particular punch to the chest made him bend over only for his face to get hit by Jon's leg. His back hit the wall and Jon swung a beautiful strike to his face that made blood fall from his chin. Darkstar desperately blocked his face to shield for any more potential blows only for there to be none.

Jon watched him with no expression, his purple eyes dark. "I was about to say before you rudely interrupted me that don't ever mess with my family just to get back at me." His eyes seemed to be on fire as he leaned in closer. "I'm better than you in any way and I'm not shy of expressing that. This is your only warning before you arouse my fury, and you don't want that don't you?"

Darkstar glared at him and his face got punched again, harder than the last blow and it made his world shake. He shook his head and stared at the floor. "How dare you!? You come to my room and attack me? You're just a bastard! I could get you hanged for this!"

"Spare me," Jon snorted. "I know all about you, Darkstar. You're a hateful man that will never rest until you set things right that you see fit. But you're also too proud for you to admit to getting punched by a bastard. I'm warning you, don't target my family or me. I'm going to say this again, you don't want to arouse my fury don't you?"

"Fuck you ba-"

"Don't you?" Jon repeated.

Darkstar refused to give him the answer. He was too proud even though this could only make it worse for him. He was from Dorne and they don't break so easily in the face of intimidation.

However, the anger that was in Jon's eyes vanished and a cold one replaced it. "I'm going to hope that you understood me." Jon walked to the door and stopped to look at him again. "I also think that you are not going to tell anyone what happened in this room, you are too proud like I said before. And the people of dorne couldn't care less of what I do to you. Good day, my lord and hope that this is our last meeting with each other for your sake."

The bastard paused again, eyes thoughtful as he observed Gerold on the floor. "After all, we share something that you may not see, People hate us." And the door closed with a slam and Darkstar was left to his thoughts.

It was in a daze that Darkstar got up. It was a daze when he left the room. It was a daze when he walked through the corridors and it was a daze when he struck the stray dummy when people began to snigger at him behind their hands as his practice in the training yard progressed.

Darkstar didn't care.

Jon Snow actually struck a chord in him.

Anger.

That was what all he felt as he slashed the dummy, with each strike he imagined that he was not striking the dummy but at Jon Snow himself.

**Jon**

_It was necessary._  Jon thought as he walked down the corridor in no particular direction. Gerold Dayne is a dangerous man and Jon even recognized it. No man would have a reputation if they didn't work for it and Jon could tell Darkstar did. The man was a formidable opponent and given him a tougher time to beat him than he once had thought, but Jon is not like the lords in this castle. Jon would end Darkstar if he makes a move on him and the other man knows it too (if the spar that they had was any indication to his claim).

He just hoped that he hadn't provoked Gerold too far; the blood on his hands was already too much as it is.

It was down the corridors where he saw Arya, Sansa, and Rickon and Bran walking with Jory following close behind. He smiled, if something can ever change his mood in an instant it was the Starks. "Jon! There you are!" Arya shouted as she hugged him around the waist.

"What is going on now? You've seen me last night, Arya," Jon said, hugging Rickon and bran tightly before giving the same to Sansa. He nodded at Jory and looked back to Arya.

"I know that! But you promised me and Rickon that you will show us the tourney grounds." A little scowl was on Arya's face.

 _I did?_  Jon couldn't recall. He looked at the smile on Bran's face that arouses his suspicion and made him glare at Arya. "You're a little liar, Arya Stark. I'm made no such promise."

"But can you please show us?" Arya pleaded, blinking her eyes rapidly. Bran and Rickon took place behind her and stared at him as well. Sansa didn't have the same pleading expression as her siblings but she did have a smile on her face that told of her wish as well.

Jory chuckled as Jon looked helplessly at his cousins.  _It's always three vs. one. I'm glad that Sansa is not like that._

"Fine, I can't refuse you, little sister," Robb told him that Arya was not the same when he left Winterfell and that she will always sob in her chamber when she thought everyone else was in bed already. By doing the small stuff like this, he was making amends with his cousins.

"Though, I don't understand why Jory couldn't show you," Jon said as he eyed his uncle's guard.

"Jory doesn't talk, brother," Bran told him. He smiled at the guard. "No offense Jory, But you can bore us by not saying anything."

"None was taken by this fellow," Jory easily replied.

"Hurry up!" Arya yelled, already running down the corridor. "Y'all are too slow!"

"Don't run, Arya," Sansa told her sister as she pulled up her skirt to follow. "It's not proper."

"Proper for what?!" Arya said as if her sister told her the craziest thing she ever heard.

"It's not proper for the daughter of the warden of the north to be running around as if she has no sense."

"Please, not now, my ladies," Jory interrupted with a wary voice as if he could set off the girls with the way he spoke. Everyone was relieved as the two Starks kept distance with each other and fell silent.

They easily strode out of the castle entrance and into the mass of the crowd that was leaving as fast as they were entering. No glance lasted more than a second as no one took real notice of them as they pushed to find a way through the bodies. From there he can see the tourney grounds. The melee and the jousting had their own separate grounds with it having space enough to hold a dozen knights.

He and his cousins walked around scoping the area. Some knights were taking their time to test the perimeter of the yards as their squires watched them grimly from the side. Jon could understand. The tournament will be ferocious and everyone will be competing for gold and glory. A few knights will be injured, and there might be death as well.  _Like the Cleganes, that…It will be messy._ The brothers were both huge and bulky. Anyone will get flattened if that person was unfavorable enough to be in the way, Jon included. He was tall and lean; he was not as big as the brothers, not even close.

"This tournament is going to be severe," Jory told them, his face glum as he looked at the grounds as well.

"Why do you say that?" Sansa asked. He and his cousins looked at the guard too.

"The relationship between the houses is not favorable, my lady. They will try to seriously harm the other side because of what transpired during the Rebellion. Don't expect to be kindness and chivalry in the yard when the matches began, you will be disappointed," Jory said.

 _What's sad is that what he said was all true._  Jon has no faith that the seven kingdoms will find trust with the other again, not this time. He was already expecting a dornishman to take a cheap shot at him during the melee. It was a testament of what the land came to. The north was never again going to be on good terms with dorne. Dorne did not take it well when Rhaegar ran off with Lyanna and for that, they don't like the north as well, even hate was involved.

"I want to join," Arya had a longing look on her face as she looked to the yards.

"Did you not hear what Jory said, Arya?!" Sansa said as she fought to keep her voice down as she looked at her sister.

Arya stared back at her, eyes so stony that Jon was reminded of his uncle when the warden was not pleased. "I don't care. I want to pick up a sword and fight with the knights."

"That can't happen," Bran said, backing up as Arya glared at him furiously. Bran looked to the ground so he can't see her stare. "I'm sorry; it's just that a woman cannot become a knight."

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Yes, I do! Girls will never become knights!"

"Perhaps I can share my insight on this, my lords."

Jon and the rest turned to the side to see a woman wearing a jerkin and a sword at her side. She was tall and had a hard face with blond hair. The women had none of the prettiness in the face like Sansa or any of the highborn ladies. Jon can even say she was ugly.

"Who are you?" Jory demanded the stranger, "And what is your house?"

"I am Brienne of Tarth, the daughter of Lord Selwyn Tarth. My house is a loyal bannermen of House Baratheon," Brienne told them.

"You're a knight?" Bran loudly asked as if such a thing didn't exist. While the others were looking at the woman in surprise, Arya smiled in rejoice at her being proved right.

"I am. Any lady can become one by discipline and effort," Brienne told them. She had the tone of pride and happiness at telling them such. "When father came to his senses that I will never be able to sew a dress or take any interest in dancing, he gave up and I became a knight later on."

Arya turned to the shocked Bran and shouted joyfully, "I knew it, you dimwit! You didn't want to believe me! Now you look stupid!"

Bran looked away from his sister's triumph gaze and into the dirt. "Aye, but you don't have to shout about it. Everyone has ears you know?"

Arya glanced at Sansa from the corner of her eye but spoke her question to Brienne. "Are you going to enter the melee and the joust or the archery competition? Or how about the singing one?"

"I'm only going to enter the melee, my lady. I'm average on the back of the horse and even worse with my skill with a bow. And I cannot sing. My instructor grew frustrated at this and told me that my voice sounded like a dying pig."

They shared a laugh that was neither aimed to hurt or to bash the women, it was only for amusement and Brienne laughed as well. The women knight looked at them. "I must be going, my lords." Brienne walked past them to the mass of the crowd and was gone.

"Wow." Rickon stared to where the women used to stand with a look of admiration in his youthful eyes. His eyes did not stop gazing at the spot until Sansa nudged him in the side. Rickon blinked a few times and was back to the real world.

"I will be the greatest knight in the seven kingdoms, I don't care if I'm a girl," Arya muttered. The others didn't hear her but Jon did. He smiled and whispered, "I believe in what you say."  _Don't let other people bring you down to the mud._

Arya started and looked at him only to see Jon's impassive face. She smiled and hugged him for what seemed like the fifth time today. His cousins and Jory eyed them with confusing faces as Jon managed to escape Arya's death grip.

"Arya!" Catelyn showed up with Edmure and blackfish following close behind. "Bran, Rickon, Sansa! What have you four been up to?"

Blackfish stared at Jon with scorn clear in his eyes while Edmure looked anywhere else as if Jon wasn't there. The white wolf stared back at Lady Stark's uncle and held the man's disdain for him. Catelyn had her hands on her hips and was gazing at her children as she waited for an explanation.

"We were looking at the tourney grounds, my lady," Jory said.

"With him?" Blackfish growled as he gestured to Jon who stood three feet from everybody else. "Why bring the bastard?"

Arya's face became enraged as she opened her mouth but Catelyn beat her to it. "Leave," Lady Stark said as she stared at Jon. Without a word and before Arya can defend him, Jon was already walking away from them and the grounds itself. While every else can assume that Lady Stark was not perky to be seen with him because they thought he was a bastard that was a living slight upon her family, but Jon can fathom what Lady Stark was doing. He and she had to keep the performance like it usually was. It would be strange if Lady Stark accepted him out of the blue after shunning him for his entire life.  _It has to be like this for now on…_  Jon did not like it. He did not like living a lie, he is a half Stark and they don't like deceit. But he reminded himself that this was not about him. It was for Arya, it was for Robb, it was for Rickon, it was for Bran, and it was for Sansa even when she and he was not as close as the others. If he had to sacrifice his happiness for his cousins…then he will gladly do it.

Jon found himself going to the camps, not only that but into the Westerlands territory. A presence, which he knew was coming closer, zapped to his side with the grace that was not normal for an animal or a human. Ghost licked his fingers as he trotted along with him. Jon was not surprised to see his companion after a long absence. The direwolfs usually goes off hunting for a couple of days but they always return to their master's side.

He was correct as fresh blood was smeared across the nose of Ghost and the direwolf was totally blind to it as he gazed at him. Jon sighed. "Oh, Ghost…Please clean your snout for me?" The wolf instantly ran its tongue and the blood was gone. "Good boy." Jon rubbed behind Ghost ears before walking again.

More than once he was eyed with suspicion, and ghost got his share of attention with fear.  _Well, we do make a sight._  Ghost was large enough that he reached Jon's chest and with his ruby eyes and white fur, it was good enough reason why.

"Bloody hell, that's a direwolf!"

"That thing is fucking big!"

"Seven hells! Those teeth!"

"That wolf is larger than all of our cocks combined!"

 _What dumbass just said that?_ Jon stopped to look who said that absurd comment. He couldn't find the person as the sea full of faces stared back at him with different types of expressions.

"What are you doing here, Snow?" A man stepped in his way, eyes looking at Ghost with faint awe before turning back to Jon. A few men took a spot behind the man as they watched the Ghost warily.

"I've come here to find Tyrion Lannister," Jon replied.

The man looked at him for a long second. "What interest do you have with my nephew that you need to speak with him?"

 _This man must be Kevan Lannister._ Jon thought as he looked at the lord. The man was fair skin, has golden hair and green eyes with a pudgy frame, the lord has Lannister blood in him. Tyrion said that his uncle was a solid man and was very capable but was behind his brother's shadow must of the time and his effectiveness couldn't be fully appreciated. Tyrion let Jon know that his uncle was more likable than his father and he was a good man that loved his family more than the legacy of their house. And with that, the man already had Jon's respect.

"What we discuss is only between us two, my lord," Jon said.

"If you cannot tell me the reason then you will not get to see him," Kevan said with more stern.

"Why not?"

"Because what you say was not a valid explanation for why you want to speak with my nephew. For all, I know this could be an attempt on his life."

Jon narrowed his eyes at the man. If he wanted to kill Tyrion then this way to do it would be utterly foolish. Only a brainless bloke will try to kill a Lannister in broad daylight with everyone watching your every move. The way he would do it was to wait until the hour of the wolf and set the tents alight to cause panic and with that, he will end the person's life.

 _Maybe he is being protective?_ Jon wondered. Tyrion did say once that his relationship with his uncle was better than what he has with his father. And Jon does have a reputation to kill people. Kevan Lannister was right to be worried.

"I'm not going to murder your nephew, my lord. Let me speak to him."

Kevan shook his head. "If you're not going to explain further then you are not seeing Tyrion. Therefore, you can leave."

_If it was any other person, he or she would not get bothered like this._

From the tents, there was a shout. "Let me through! Excuse me; a dwarf is trying to get through for fuck's sake!"

"Let the small man through, you'll little shits! Out of the fucking way!" The next voice was louder and raspier sounding.

Tyrion appeared from Kevan's side with Sandor as an escort. The dwarf looked up at the Clegane after brushing himself off. "Thank you, hound."

"No problem little man."

Tyrion looked to Jon and his eyes widen. "Jon! What are you doing here in the den of the lions of all places?"

"I wanted to talk to you." Jon glanced at Kevan. "Well, I tried to but your lord uncle stopped me from doing that."

"Is it something that you did?"

"No. He fears what I'm going to do. Your uncle thinks that I was going to assassinate you in your tent."

Tyrion stared him and then started laughing with Sandor laughing too. People stared at them as the two laughed into the air. There was no sound except for those two.

Tyrion stopped his laughter and looked at his uncle. "I don't think this one is going to assassinate me when I have a whore in my tent, uncle. That would be uncivilized. Snow and I are good friends."

Jon snorted, inadvertently drawing eyes to him. Kevan looked at his nephew and to him. "It appears I have been wrong. I apologize."

"You shouldn't apologize to a bastard, my lord," Jon stated. He was glared at by the men and the women. He stared at them coldly and they looked away to the side. Jon turned back to Kevan.

Kevan looked to be in a struggle as Sandor triggered. Tyrion shook his head. "I'm sorry, uncle for my friend's bluntness. He's just like that."

"No need for that, Tyrion. We need more people like him. The seven knows that we only have a handful of them. I will take now take my leave." Kevan nodded at them and swept past. People turned from them and minded their own as the scene of interest was no more.

"You wish to speak?" Tyrion inquired.

"Aye, I have nothing else to do. What do you say, dwarf? Think you can handle me for a few hours?"

"Come now, Snow. We shall see if you can take being with me and my gloomy dog as we drown cups until we die."

"I am not your dog," Sandor said. He glared at Tyrion.

Tyrion grinned at him. "You must've known that I say that in jest! We have been around each other for so long for you to get so serious!"

"Or is he trying to act tough and mighty because you're here?" Tyrion said to Jon. "Perhaps he feels threaten that you might take his spot as my sworn shield?"

"Stop with that, dwarf." Sandor scowled furiously. "No one can replace me."

Jon looked at the Clegane with interest as people moved around them. The sky was becoming cloudy and the sun was blocked from view. A drizzle hit his nose and the camp was splattered with soft rain.

"I say that you don't like competition," Jon said with a small smirk as his hair became damp.

"Hmph!" Sandor huffed. He looked upwards to the sky and his eyes blinked from the rain. The man glowered at them and said, "Or we going to stand here getting our asses wet or are we going inside a tent?"

"You have read my thoughts." Tyrion walked through the tents as Jon and Sandor followed at his step. People did the same as they went into their tents to escape the rain. They arrived at a large pavilion and went through. Jon shook his head to lessen the dampness; his eyes were momentarily unable to see as his long hair closed off everything. After that, he observed the tent as Sandor and Tyrion kicked off their boots. Ghost padded himself in and curled himself in one spot of the room and closed his eyes.

An averaged sized table was in the middle with three flagons on it and one of them was empty. Candles were placed in many parts of the room but mostly on the other small tables that were in the corners. They were one of the chairs that a man sat.

"It long enough," The man said as they pulled up a chair to the table where he was. "I had the thought that you would bring a maid for how long you've been gone. I'm surprised."

"I'm full of surprises, Bronn," Tyrion wryly responded. "But no. We picked up my friend from my uncle's jaws."

Bronn peered at Jon. "Snow is it?" He sneaked a look at Ghost.

"The one and only," Jon responded.

"The one and only to kick Gerold Dayne's arse in front of every lord in that hall. Good job."

Jon poured himself a cup and looked at them. "It seems everyone is talking about that." He wanted Gerold to shut his mouth because he was too arrogant. He didn't spar with him to have every lord and every lady gossiping about him.

"Should it be a surprise?" Tyrion asked. Everyone shook their heads. "Are you not glad that people are talking about you?"

"Tyrion, they have been talking about me." Jon heard the whispers wherever he goes, some were bad and some were worse. The women in the castle seemed to be easier on him than the men just because of his looks alone.

"You know what you should do bastard? Fuck everyone in the fucking arse and there should be no more problems," Bronn idly said.

"That would be too easy. If I can do that then I will be the king of the seven kingdoms already," Jon replied. They all laughed but Jon's was a little dimmed compared to theirs.  _I could fuck everyone in the arse if I wanted too. But Cannibal…he would go insane. I don't think any force can stop him; they would only make him more crazed._  Tyrion sent him a knowing look that told him that he was thinking the same thought as well.

"Are we going to play the game?" Sandor asked loudly, though Ghost didn't flinch from the floor.

Bronn saw Jon's confused face and said, "This is a harmless game. Well, it's harmless when you're the one winning. If not, you're going to find yourself under the table and too drunk to walk to the feast tonight."

"Tell me of this game," Jon said.

It was Tyrion who spoke, "It is a drinking game. Each person is going to have a turn to make a statement about their past to whoever he wants. If the person guesses correctly the other person drinks. If the person who asked guesses wrong he drinks. And each person has to answer truthfully, no lying. I will know if you are. The last person somber enough to attend the feast wins."

_Fuck it. I'm playing, I need to relax. What harm will this game do?_

"I don't think I'm comfortable having my guard not somber enough to protect me from danger," Tyrion said as he looked to Sandor.

"Fuck you, dwarf. If that sellsword over there gets to play that game then I am going to play." Sandor poured himself a cup.

"Who's going first?" Jon asked.

"You go first because you asked," Bronn said.

"Fine then," Jon conceded. He looked around the table. His eyes landed on Tyrion and said, "When you were younger, you used to look at your own shit to see if you can spawn gold like your father."

Tyrion picked up his cup and sipped. He put the cup down and looked to see everyone eyeing him with disgust. "What? I was only eight!"  _I was fully expected to take my first sip, not him._

"Ok, my turn," Tyrion observed everyone until he stopped at the hound. "You've killed a bloke over the matter of food at an inn."

Sandor sipped his cup without a pause. "It was a piece of chicken. I warned him."

Tyrion looked at his guard with his mouth hanging open. "When did this happen!?"

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"Doesn't matter anymore…" Tyrion said with his voice low as his stunted height. The Lannister looked at Sandor and said, "I should never share my meal with you again. Bronn, make sure you remind me of this."

"I will," Bronn said.

"At least I didn't play around with my own shit, dwarf," Sandor countered. Jon and Bronn chuckled at his words.

"I told you! I was eigh-"Tyrion cut himself short and he glared at them. He sighed and waved his hand towards Bronn. "Go."

"Snow, you once killed two men with only a spoon as a weapon," Bronn said.

Jon drowned his goblet and he glanced at the sellsword. "Where did you hear that from?"

Bronn shrugged. "A group of drunken fellows was talking about it in a brothel."

"And now It's your turn," Tyrion told Sandor. "And please, don't talk about chickens anymore."

Sandor glared at the dwarf and he looked at them each and he opened his mouth.

…

"You are actually a funny man, snow," Bronn complimented, his voice slurred from the wine he consumed. The four of them battled to a standstill and found no winner and so they relented. All of them couldn't walk straight as they bumped into one another and they talked gibberish to random people as they passed for no apparent reason. Ghost walked from the back of the group, his eyes had to be alert because Jon and the others were not. The rain had stopped and the sun dropped and the night air felt warm on his skin. Jon blinked, but the ground still swayed dangerously. He tried blinking again to no effect.

"When I first saw you I thought that you were just grumpy like Sandor over there," Bronn said as he looked at the confused hound. Ironically, it was Tyrion who managed not to sway on his feet. Despite his size, he was not as dazed as them by the wine. But Jon can hear the loud breathing of the dwarf to tell that he was somewhat damaged by the intake as well.

"Huh," Jon merely said as he continued his uphill battle.

"Should we really go to the feast?" Bronn asked. "We are going to act like fools in front of the lords."

"Are you being a bitch now?" Sandor breathed deeply, his large form bumping into another person. The woman yelled at them but her words were nonexistent in their ears as the drunken state was too strong.

"How do you call him," Jon said in confusion, pointing to Bronn. "A bitch when you're actually a dog yourself?"  _I sound really stupid. I should go to bed. I can't go in the hall like this._ His guard was down. He was unable to concentrate. He laughed with Tyrion and them when he shouldn't, and jested with them when he normally doesn't and he smiled when he hadn't in ages. He had a good time with those three, he might even call the outing as fun but it was time for him to recuperate and go back to his usual state.

"What?" Sandor asked slowly.

"Nothing," Jon replied, just as slowly.

"Come now," Tyrion said to them as he gestured to the front gates where people were going through. "Let us go."

"No," Jon found himself say. His next words had more strength. "I'm fucked up in the head because of you three. I need to retire to feel better."

Sandor made a pathetic attempt to wave at him. "Goodbye bastard."

Jon turned just in time to see Robb grab his arm and start pulling him to the castle. The Stark glanced back at him. "I've been looking for you for hours! Let us go."

"Robb…I'm dr-"Jon tried to protest but he fell roughly on his face. The grass felt cool and soft and Jon just wanted to lay his head on it for a little bit longer to dull the wine effect on his body.

"What's wrong with him?" Theon asked. Jon didn't know where he came from but he didn't care, he wanted to rest.

"I don't know," Robb said as he grabbed Jon by the upper arm and pulled him up. Jon barely kept his feet standing and he didn't even have the time to protest when he was pulled along again. He looked back to see Ghost had disappeared without a trace.

When they arrived at the great hall he ripped his arm from Robb's grasp and scowled at him. Rather than taking the laborious walk to his tent, he took a seat at one of the tables. He took one glance at the high table to see it was arranged differently. The table was linked to another to provide more seats and for more people. Jon looked away and groaned as he rubbed his tired eyelids.

He heard Robb and Theon sit down and Jon can feel a warm face close to his own. "What is going on with you?" It was Robb.

"He is drunk," Theon answered for him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Robb asked. "I could've taken you to your tent."

Jon placed his hands down on the table and glared at his cousin. "I didn't get the chance to because you were dragging me like I'm your pet. And didn't you think it was weird for me to fall down like that?"

Robb's face turned into a grin, it was so infectious that Theon grinned as well. "In that case, it will be very entertaining to see how you act in the middle of a feast while being drunk."

 _He better not dare!_  "Take me to my tent. Now."

"No. This is my first time to see you drunk and I'm not wasting anything for it. Besides, most people in this hall will be drunk as well. There is nothing that is going to be wrong. I will take you to your tent after the night is through. Hell, I can carry you myself."

"You are an arse," Jon said.

"And I heard there will be dancing tonight as well," Theon cut in. "Will you partake in this dance, snow?"

"Dancing while drunk? That's a no."

"You can't say that until you try it," Robb said with a smile.

"What did you say?" Alys asked in curiosity as she wrapped her hands around Robb's neck. "What are you talking about?" She asked again as she sat down in between Theon and Robb.

"Jon had too much to drink," Robb said with a small laugh. He looked at him and asked, "Who did you drink with anyway?"

"Tyrion Lannister." His head was pounding and he felt like shit overall, but at least his words came out without a stutter.

"The dwarf?!" Theon cried out in disbelief. "You shared a drink with the dwarf? He looks like he can't even stomach a single cup!"

"He is small, but his endurance is to die for. I joined him and his friends in a drinking game and if we hadn't called it a draw then he would've been the last one standing amongst us."

Theon still looked skeptic as he ate his food. Alys looked at him with a frown that made her face even prettier than before. "Do you want some water?"

Jon nodded and Robb passed him a cup that he sipped with earnest.  _Concentrate. Concentrate. Concentrate._  The fresh water helped him clear his mind a bit, and Jon was happy about that. He didn't like to be vulnerable, no, he  **hates** it. He spent too much time-fighting in wars to be acceptable to be defenseless. For years he had been looking behind his back at the hidden daggers and at the cloak men that always seemed to be following him. Jon gulped down the water and asked for another.

More and more people were entering the hall and it was getting full which was peculiar because it was so big. His cousins waved at him from the Tully table and he nodded back. Jon saw Tyrion and his bodyguards jesting to themselves and at the people from the other tables. Tyrion glanced at him and nodded in which Jon returned before he looked away.

"Take that back right now, Lannister!"

Joffrey was smirking as he was stood up from his seat as was the other person who was glaring at him in anger. "Your house and your people are jokes that happen to be in this kingdom. Your father is most pathetic."

Edric face grew red. "Say that again, Targaryen. I dare you!" The men from the Baratheon and the Lannister began to stand, glaring at the other table.

"Sit down," Renly ordered, "All of you sit down!"

Most of his men sat but Edric still did not move. "How can you allow this," He gestured to Joffrey as if disgusted, " **Boy**  insult us?! He has no right! His grandfather was being a fucking craven in the rebellion by hiding behind his rocks!"

Laughs echoed through the hall as Jeffrey scowled, and the Lannister men glared at the people who were throwing sniggers at them. Joffrey slammed his hands on the table and it was quiet again. The golden head sneered at Edric. "I say that my grandfather was smart. Could you say the same about your father? No, you can't because he died with a sword in his belly like how a usurper should die."

Edric roared and moved to climb over the table. Renly held him back but the other still screamed. "How dare YOU!" Plates and goblets were thrown to the floor as he struggled.

Joffrey continued to hit home with his snarl still on his face as he eyed Edric with haughtiness. "Robbert Baratheon left you all alone except for your equally pathetic uncle who can't even lay with his wife and had to name you his heir. It's a shame."

Edric didn't stop roaring and neither did he stop trying to reach Joffrey, and Renly had to manhandle him out of the hall with the help of his bannermen and the doors closed after them. The Baratheon tables were too embarrassed and flustered to meet any ones gaze. Silence hovered above all before Joffrey-who was still standing- raised his goblet. "It's true after all. Barath-"

"Close your mouth," Viserys said. His voice was calm but his eyes burned with the anger of a dragon. "And sit down; you've embarrassed me and your mother with your childish display. This is why you cannot sit at the high table with your family, and you've complained about why your brother sat with us and not you."

Tommen shifted nervously under the great number of eyes that touched him. Joffrey glared at his brother and looked at his father who continued speaking. "Do not say a word for the remainder of this feast, if you don't, I will slap you right in front of these lords and ladies that are in this very hall."

"But, father! The Stormlands needed to be put back in line! That bastard talked back to  **me**!"

Viserys stood from his seat and went around the table. Joffrey took a step back, but Viserys slapped him so hard that the boy's face turned a harsh red. Cersei stood up so fast that her chair was knocked backward. Viserys glared at her, and the woman stayed silent but she still stayed standing. The brother of the king turned back to stare at his son. "Sit down and stay quiet."

Joffrey sat in his chair without complaint, his face still red as he stared at his plate with an unreadable expression. Viserys sat back down at the high table and Cerci sat too but scooted her chair farther away from him. Viserys said a few words to the prince and the princess and fell silent.

People ate hesitantly and they spoke softly. But as minutes ticked by, the hall returned to its proper form by having chats and shouting to its fullest measure. Jon-still uneasy with the drink-tried to strike up a conversation with the people at their table, Domeric was the only person to talk to him for more than twenty minutes.

The prince stood up and he had everyone attention. Aegon let his eyes sweep through the hall and his met with Jon's for a long moment before he looked passed him. He grinned and said, "Tonight has disappointed me, my friends. There has been an argument over matters that were settled years ago and that should stay in the past. We cannot dwindle our minds thinking about the past that is supposed to be dead."

Jon looked to everyone to see they're listening to every word the prince said, they almost looked like they're in a glaze.  _The prince_   _is a good talker._ Jon thought as he listened to his brother speech. The prince was compelling and powerful in his words and he was even more persuasive into capturing the attention of every person who was seated. Jon can see how the realm loved the prince, and he didn't even need to look at everyone's face to tell this. Even the people from the Stormlands listened to him; they are practically hanging on every word he said.

"And how do we fix this?" Aegon asked them. "I know and you know it too. We can put away our differences for just one night for this…dancing!" Cups were slammed on the table and chairs were being pushed back as cheers rippled through the great hall. The bards and the singers arrived and they started to play a few songs as people paired with the men or lady they had wanted to dance with.

"Did you change your mind, Jon?" Robb cheekily asked as he and his wife stood to dance. Jon stayed right where he was.

"No. Go and dance with your wife before you carry me back to my tent," Jon responded, drowsiness coating his voice.

Robb laughed and he led his wife to the center of the hall to join the dancing. Theon was approached by a lady and he left the table too but not before he said, "You are missing out snow."

Jon shrugged as he laid his head on his arms and watched the dancing take place. Even when he was the person to suggest the dance, the prince still sat at the high table watching everything. And Margaery was seated too. Jon thought that they were not dancing with each other for a reason. Aegon refused to glance at his wife and she did the same to him and they seemed to be a thousand miles away from each other but in reality, they sat right next to the other. Jon found this odd but left it to rest.

Catelyn watched as Sansa linked arms with a young man that looked a few years older and led her to where the dancing was taking place. Jon laughed at the way her eyes narrowed at the young man. He looked on until he was tapped on the shoulder. Jon turned his head to see it was one of the kingsguard, Ser Loras who stood behind him.

"What do you want?" Jon asked.

"The princess wants a dance," Loras replied. His face told him that he didn't like the way he spoke to him but Jon didn't care for that.

Jon quickly looked to see that the princess had moved from the high table and into the middle of the room. Plenty of young men came to ask for a dance, but she politely rejected each of their advances without even sparing them a glance.  _She is waiting for me._

"And if I refuse?"

"It is a command," Loras said, his voice having a slight edge of amusement as he spoke. "It is wise to obey. You don't want to anger a dragon princess."

"I'm quite drunk right now, ser. A drunken bastard should not dance with the royalty."

"A command is a command." The kingsguard's amusement was now apparent. "I would advise you to take another gulp of that water before you go."

Jon did just that before he left his seat. Drinking the water did help for the most part as he started walking to the center. He retained most of his focus and his walk was without falter as he took step after step. His breath stopped as Rhaenys smiled and held out her hand. As Jon took the smaller hand, a shiver ran to his arm and up to his spine. Her skin was just as smooth as it looked. The princess paused and looked at their intertwined hands with a scrutinizing eye. Jon observed her face as she observed their hands. She was beautiful, there were no exceptions. With her black curly hair and her olive skin, she was a vision. Even when they had a partner to dance with, the men still eyed him with envy and disbelief.

The princess was almost the same height as him, so when she brought her head back up her eyes were staring right at his without having to crane her neck. Rhaenys's smile turned wider as they begin dancing with Jon taking the lead. As they dance to the flow of the music, Jon had his hands on the princess's waist and made certain that they won't go downward.

"You don't seem to be as focused as the last time I met you, Snow," Rhaenys said, "Are you drunk?" Her hands around him tightened.

"I'm afraid so your, highness," Jon responded.  _Will she be offended and have me thrown into the cells?_  He watched the princess. Rhaenys stared back and appeared not to be as angry as he thought.

"You move well, considering that you are," Rhaenys praised.

"I told ser Loras that I was drunk, but he said it was a command," Jon bluntly said.

The princess still smiled as if it wasn't an issue and said, "You looked alone at that table and I thought it would be good for you to dance."

Jon was doubtful but he responded, "To tell the truth my, princess, I just wanted to retire to my tent and to be left alone."

Rhaenys laughed and it sounded nice in Jon's ears. He bit the insides of his mouth as his groin stirred. The princess almost conveyed the impression that she was tempting him by the way she was looking and holding him like she was not letting him leave, like how he would feel being trapped between Cannibals teeth. There was no escape.

The princess still had that smile on her face as she stopped her laughter, and Jon thought she had the smile ever since he had taken her hand. "Do you not like being in my company, Snow?" Rhaenys asked.

"I never said that, my princess."

Rhaenys eyes darkened, and Jon schooled his face to not let the surprise show at the sudden mood change. "Then why did you leave when I told you not to when you sat with my brother and me?" Rhaenys demanded. "You didn't even have the courtesy to bow before you left."

Instead of being angry he felt…nervous. It was like the princess was in the right and he was in the wrong even when he didn't see the harm in it. Jon looked to the side to see Robb eyeing him with a knowing look as he danced with Alys. The hidden Targaryen ignored him and looked to the demanding princess who was still waiting for an answer.

"I did not want to be near your uncle's wife," Jon said. "From what I know so far, she is a bitch." Someday his bluntness and his honesty will get him killed. Everyone can say what they want about him but he is not a liar and the southerners had to see that as the people in Essos did.

Rather than getting angry at a bastard insulting one of her family members, the princess laughed and changed her mood again. "You can be at ease, Snow. Cerci can be…a little bratty most of the time and I don't like her either," Rhaenys said. "Don't be worried about what she will say to you. You are going to be around me."

_She said that as if I'm never going to leave her side._

"As you say, my princess," Jon replied.

"Call me Rhaenys."

"Can't do that, your highness."

"I will tell you what you can do: I want you to call me by my name."

Jon nodded but Rhaenys was not satisfied and she said, "Say it. Say my name."

"Rhaenys." Saying that name done something to him but he didn't know what. The only thing he can gather is that her name sounded good on his tongue, but Jon would not leave it at this.

"If you want me to call you by your name, Rhaenys," Jon started. The princess's smile couldn't be brighter than it was now at him saying that. Jon had to pause to recover and continued, "Then you have to call me by my first name as well."

"For now on I will name you Jon when we are alone," Rhaenys replied.

_Alone? There it is again._

They talked, and they danced. When one of them led the dance, the other followed. Rhaenys watched him and Jon did the same. When the other gripped tighter, the other returned the grip just the same. Her skin felt warm in Jon's hands, it contrasted with his cold ones. Jon felt zoned out-which did not happen often- as they continued to dance, and he felt that they were the only ones people in this hall. Jon tuned out the background music as he enjoyed the feeling of the princess' waist. All too soon, the dance ended and the feast was over. The princess didn't say anything when he left and neither did he. They didn't need to.


	15. Chapter 15

**Jon**

_The air was humid but it didn't stop them from marching in well-organized sync. The ground beneath their feet quivered as the gray elephants, which are donned in steel plate armor, stumped in the lead of their force. They didn't need the Cavalry because no horse could match the devastating might of the war elephants._

_He was one of the spearmen, and thus he marched with them. Like everyone else, they wore a heavy plate of golden armor and helms that protected their heads, and more importantly, their faces. On one hand they gripped their pointy spear, and on the_   _other hand, was a sturdy shield that was colored in deep gold._

_Jon took a chance to glance at his rear. The swordsmen marched together with their hands firmly on the Pommel of their swords. The Archers were the farthest away. Even though they didn't wear the type of armor the others have, they still have armor to protect themselves, though it was lighter in weight._

_Jon glanced at the two people beside him to see they were staring ahead with hard expressions. They did not show any feelings of fear or nervousness because they were calm for the battle ahead._

_Can I be like that? Jon thought as he furrowed his dark eyebrows. He has doubts. For the past year, the Golden Company assigned him tasks. The tasks were quite simple: Assassinate. At first, he had been conflicted and torn about the killings that he was doing. He even let a target flee to his subdivision commander's disappointment. Weeks after that, the men scorned him, calling him a green boy who shouldn't partake in war. Jon had grown determined after that. Taking life became easier but in no way was it not a difficult deed to do. He doubted if he could take a life so easily and yet, today, he was thrust into the front lines._

_The Golden Company has been signed again. This time the contract was monstrous and so was the payment if they get the job done. The city of Qohor was attacked by the Dothraki horde a moon ago. The city was able to repel the horde by the help of the Unsullied from Astaphor. Qohor wanted them to destroy the Dothraki completely, starting from their city at Vaes Dothrak. Jon knew it was not going to be easy._

_Jon's hand shook and the spear in his hand slightly wobbled. When he first started training, he found that he had an aptness with a spear and was soon proficient with the long weapon. It was more difficult to use than a sword, but it had a longer reach._

_Jon was nervous. This was not some small-scale scrimmaging that he was used to; This was a war and there will be deaths. No, Thousands of people will die. The Dothraki horde was reported to be around forty thousand strong under the new Khalaser named Khal Drogo. The Golden Company's force was smaller at the number of twenty thousand. On the paper, the upcoming battle seemed like a slaughter to the ones who never saw a battle. But they were the most experienced sellsword company in the free cities and the most famed. They had elephants, where the Dothraki only has horses. They have better armor, where the savages have none. But there will deaths for certain. Jon's spear wobbled again. I will probably die too. He thought grimly._

_The wobbling of his hand did not go unnoticed._

" _Snow is about to piss in his smallclothes," A random man shouted._

_None said a word before the shout, and thus the jape rippled through the air and was the only thing that was heard. There was silence. One of the men started laughing and others started laughing too._

_Jon scowled underneath his helm as the two people beside him laughed loudly. A lone rider broke off from the force and stood in front of them. The march ceased as everyone gave the captain-general their attention._

" _Stop this chatter!" Harry shouted. Even when there were thousands among them, his words were still able to be heard with no trouble._

" _We are about to enter a battle and all of you are laughing?" Harry scowled furiously. "Men, this is not the time for jests!"_

_They were silent as Harry went on. The captain-general rode his horse across the formation back and forth, taking his time to stare at each man in the eye. "Will you bring shame to Bittersteel?"_

" _NO!" Was the chorus reply from the men._

" _Prove it!" Harry yelled. "Prove it by focusing rather than making jests!"_

_Across the green plains, there was a noise that made them fall silent. It made the ground rumble in its intensity even when it was far away. The noise was eerie and came in no particular direction. The sound was just there as if it was taunting them._

_It's screams. Jon realized as his pressure on his spear increased. The others realized too and formed a wall without being told to do so. Jon executed the drill perfectly, as he placed the shield on the ground and extended his spear out in front of him, his form tense. There was the sound of armor jiggling as the men moved._

" _Everybody, get lined up!" Harry bellowed as the spearmen completed the wall. The swordsmen took position behind them with their swords drawn and ready for blood. The war elephants roared and thumped their feet into the ground with an eagerness that made Jon startle from his spot._

_The archers were being rallied by Black Balaq, the commander of the archers. The summer islander yelled, "Nock!" Men with bows notched their arrows and steadied it to where they were anticipating the sounds were coming from._

_Jon swallowed the lump in his throat as the sounds grew louder in pitch. From the horizon, with the shiny sun blasting at their backside, were the mounted Dothraki's who were screaming and shaking their arakh's._

" _This is it!" Harry commented loudly. "They are the savages we will be gutting soon. We will soon get paid handsomely, and we will spend the gold in the brothels."_

_They say that the Dothraki cries paralyzed their foes before the battle even begun. Jon was almost paralyzed, but he clenched his jaw from doing so. That weakness will get him killed. There aren't supposed to be any weaknesses on the battlefield._

_The Dothraki's were closer now, and Jon's blood rushed in his ears as his heart kicked against his chest, as if it wanted to escape from the impending crash and the death that will surely follow._

_They are so close…too close. Jon could see them bare their teeth and saw the craziness that flushed in their dark eyes. The Dothraki horses kicked up a cloud of dust._

" _What's beneath the gold?"_

" _The bittersteel!"_

_The elephants trumpet loudly for the last time before charging loose towards the opposite side. Several Dothraki's yelled as they were thrown off their saddles from the pure force of the animals. The horde seemed to split in two as the grey elephants tore itself a path._

" _Loose!" A man cried from the chaos._

_The arrows were released and hundreds of them fell. However, it was just a dent to their forces._

_Jon sucked in a breath as the first Dothraki rode towards him. He picked up his spear and stuck it between the horse's legs. The horse shrieked and toppled as the man who used to ride it fell off. Jon lifted his shield and took a few short steps to stab the man through the head._

_He felt sick at the sight of the blood pouring out, but he couldn't keep it because a Dothraki without a horse charged at him. Jon struggled to hold his shield as he was attacked with ruthless strikes. After two strikes, he fell on his knees but managed to thrust his spear into the other man's belly. The weapon emerged from the other side; the man fell weakly to the ground._

_Jon grunted as a kick landed to his left hip. He stumbled to the ground, and he barely had the time to block his face as slice after slice hit his shield. It soon stopped. Jon looked from his shield to his assaulter dyeing on the grass, gurgling from his own blood. He did not know who saved him but didn't care. He was alive and that was the only thing that mattered at this point. Jon strode over and stabbed into the man's chest, twisting and turning the spear until he stilled._

_An arakh briefly touched his chin as he hastily dodged another attempt. Jon's shield flew out of his shaking grasp. He cursed before moving back swiftly. Jon gasped as he was pushed to the ground. Before the Dothraki can take advantage, his throat was sliced, and he fell._

_Jon was roughly picked up by his comrade. Before the man can say anything to him, his head was quickly missing from his shoulders. From the place where his head used to be, the blood came rushing out like a stream. Jon hissed as the blood hit his eyes. He took a couple of steps back, staring in shock as the man fell to the ground._

_The blood stung his eyes, but he kept his eyelids from closing. Jon stayed where he was, not once moving even when the battle continued to increase in intensity around him. He slowly rotated his body, frozen to the spot by the carnage that was happening at this moment._

_The air was thick with bloodcurdling screams. Smoke covered the skies, and it wiped the sun out of existence. Horses screamed their last shrill breaths, uselessly kicking their longs leg out as their insides were cut open. The thick grass was ripped from the earth as both sides tried to get the upper hand on the other. His comrades and the Dothraki alike pleaded fruitlessly before breathing their last. Men cried out for help but gone none as they hopelessly tried to hold in their entrails that were spilling from their stomachs. The elephants seem to be an instrument of death as they broke the Dothraki line._

_Jon was not approached or touched; he stood unmoving. He didn't feel like he was here. To him, it was like he was watching this from a different place and a different world. Suddenly his heart burned and his breathing became harsh. His head felt like fluid, and his ears were ringing from the horrifying yells that seemed to never stop. Each time someone screamed it felt like a volley of arrows was poking his chest. There was an abundant amount of screams, so his body was twitching uncontrollably, and thus he lost the grip on his spear. His hands were shaking too fast, and therefore he dropped the spear again when he reached for it. The spear in his hands was slippery from his own sweaty palms, but he tightened his hold over the spear._

_As he looked around the field again, his mind became soft, and his coarse breathing came out harsher than the last every time his eyes saw a dead body. I can't be here. Jon thought with panic. He felt the need to run, and he took off in no particular direction. He just wanted to leave. The screams, the blood, the lifeless eyes of the dead. it was too much for him. He has to leave now._

_As he ran, a blur flashed from the corner of his eye. Jon turned his head to his left to see a black muscled leg of a horse before he was flattened. His head seemed to crack as the world turned black._

…

_Jon sat up quickly with a gasp. He wheezed loudly because he found it difficult to get the air that his lungs demanded. His head felt like a beating drum, so he removed his helm and softly touched his forehead. Jon winced and hissed through his cleaned teeth as the tender spot on his head flared in pain. After the pain smoothed over, he touched it again with carefulness. He brought his hand to his face to see dried blood smeared across his fingertips._

_When he looked up from his fingers and to his horror, the sky was completely dark and the sun was overthrown by the white moon. Not a sound was heard, only the dreadful silence was present. It was more frightening than the screams of death._

_The bodies were there, but it was not the living ones Jon was wishing for. Piles of bodies were thrown on top of each other, and each gaze of the dead was staring right at him. Jon throat constricted at the overwhelming number of lifeless eyes and the dark scarlet blood that drenched the grass._

_The smell from the dead bodies hit him hard as if he was struck by one of the war elephants. The smell was rotten. Shit and piss was the only thing that was in Jon's nostrils. He rolled over on his belly and vomited on the grass until he started choking and spitting._

_Bronn was right that men do piss themselves before a battle. Jon thought as he cleaned his lips. The thought was so random and surreal it made Jon laugh at the absurd of it. He grimaced as the pain in his head remerged with vengeance. Jon sighed and put his head down._

_Then he realized the situation he was in and sprang to his feet. He swerved his head to the left and to the right. To the right, there was nothing but air and bodies. To the left, there was nothing but air and bodies. He was alone._

_Jon closed his eyes tight and grasped his dark hair and paced the grass. I'm alone. I'm alone. He kept repeating that in his mind, as if he thought hard enough the situation was not real and all of this was a dream. But when he opened his eyes, he was in the same exact place with dead bodies and the rotten smell as his only company._

" _FUCK!" Jon shouted in anger. His scream was echoed in the silence, but there was no response to be heard._

_He was alone in a land that he didn't know of. He had no map, no food, no water, no supplies, and no help. All he had was his armor and his sword._

_Who was victorious? Jon wondered, but then he decided he didn't care. Even if his side had won the Dothraki were still walking about in these lands. They lived here after all. The Dothraki Sea was large and wide. The chances of him making it alive out of these lands were slim._

_I'm going to die here. He thought. Jon sat on his heels and hung his head. The Golden Company was right about him, he was just a green boy. He's just going to be a random bastard that happened to be left behind to die in the grassland that was full of savages._

_Jon slowly walked by the dead bodies, downhearted. He was not going to die without trying to make it out of here._

Jon groaned softly. His head felt like shit. He stood from his bed, legs cracking as he stretched his limbs. After repeating those movements, he sat on the edge of his bed and yawned.

When the dance ended, Robb had to carry him to his tent. It was revealed that he fell asleep outside the gates lying on the grass. Robb also said a few people were nudging him when he slept, and that Ghost had to drive them away.

 _I'm a fool._ Jon thought with a small smile. He actually finds it funny that he was knocked out when he thought he was awake enough to make it back to the tent by himself. He was wrong.

Jon looked up as Robb barged into the tent. Robb paused and smiled at him. "Are you feeling good?" his voice was way too cheery.

Jon flinched at his loud voice. He closed his eyes and said, "Don't say it like that."

"Like what?!" Robb asked louder.

Jon sighed. "For, god's sake…"

"I can't hear you! I'm afraid you have to speak up!"

Jon stood up then, enraged. "SHU-" he stopped to clutch his head. Jon went back to his bed and groaned softly. His head felt like it was being sewed by Sansa.

"I'm sorry," Robb said, "But I had to that."

"Of course you have to," Jon rumbled as he rolled over to his side.

He felt Robb approach his bed and sighed again.  _Last night I was drunk. Can he leave me alone for once?_

He heard his cousin pull up a chair close to his bed. Jon grabbed his pillow and covered his ears and closed his eyes. It was a clear signal that he didn't want to be bothered, but he knew that Robb was going to ignore it.

"Are we not going to discuss what happened last night?" Robb asked.

 _What is he talking about?_  Jon thought in confusion. From what he remembered, all he did was get drunk. He sat at one of the tables in the hall and that was it. Instead of dancing like everybody else he had been sleeping as he intended.

"What are you talking about?" Jon asked in a tired voice.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I don't. Enlighten me please."

"Everyone in the great hall was talking about it."

"They were talking about me sleeping?" Jon asked in disbelief. "They were truly bored out of their fucking minds if they were talking about that. Nowadays, everybody just likes to talk about me."

"No, Jon." Jon can hear the smile in his cousin's voice. "They were talking about a bastard that had the fortune to dance with the dragon princess."

"What!" Jon spun to glare at the Stark. "I did no such thing." His words came out slowly, and he then fell silent as Robb grinned. Last night was so clear in his mind now, as if he had come out of a very dark cave and experiencing the sunlight for the very first time.

It all came back to him. He did have a dance with princess Rhaenys. He remembered taking her small hands. He recalled the way her hips felt warm against his palms. He recollected how tight she was holding on to him. Jon knew that his hands were touching places where it shouldn't but couldn't help it. He also knew it was wrong. She was his sister, yet he can't stop the feelings. Those brown eyes of hers will be the death of him.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

"You remember now?" Robb asked, very amused. "I didn't think the two of you were able to hear me and Theon calling you."

Jon breathed through his nose loudly. "Did you make a scene?"

"Yes."  _Robb, I have only one thing to say. Fuck you._

Jon sucked his teeth. "Should I ask why?"

"You don't have to because I'm about to tell you anyway," Robb said easily. "You and the princess seemed to be so into each other and you two were being… **way**  too close. I thought it would be a good idea to bring you back to your senses and Theon agreed with me. So, we started to call you."

Jon rubbed his face as Robb grinned. "While, I was calling your name too, but Theon was fucking loud. Everyone noticed, but you two didn't."

"Fuck you, Robb, and fuck you too, Theon," Jon murmured. He didn't like people being aware of him dancing with the princess, and even more so when he was touching her more than he should have.

Robb glanced at him. "Did you say something?"

"No."

Robb whistled and shook his head. "I knew you were pretty, but I didn't know you were pretty enough to get the princesses affection."

Jon glared at him. "Stop right there, you fucking Stark. This is my older sister," He hissed. Though the princess didn't seem like a sister, it felt different. "what we are talking about is wrong."

Robb raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "Last night, you didn't hold her like she was your older sister. You held her like she was your older lover."

"That is incest," Jon hissed. "And you fucking know it."

Robb's smile left his face. "And you claim that you know your history well," He whispered.

"I do," Jon said.

Robb exploded out of his chair and spread his arms wide, scrunching his face. "Then this shouldn't be a problem for you dragons. Targaryens are known for mating within their family."

Jon shook his head. "I am not a dragon. I've been raised as a wolf and will always be a wolf. I'm not a person who approves of incest."  _I don't feel like a Targaryen, so why should I act like one?_

Robb looked at him. "Do you think the princess will think that way? Would she even care?"

Jon didn't know. He did not know the princess at all.

"People told me the princess is stubborn in what she what's and is  **very** possessive of her belongings."

"She can be as stubborn as she wants," Jon replied. "She won't have me." He has to be strong. He just has to be.

"I don't have a good taste to incest, but anything can happen as of right now. The princess doesn't know that you are her sibling. She just sees you as a pretty bastard that she can take to bed. You, on the other hand, know who you are. The princess is magnificent beauty and you cannot deny that."

"If you don't like incest then why-"

"Because I wanted to have fun with it," Robb interrupted. "I keep to teasing you about her for the fuck of it. I thought you weren't attracted to her then, but I am aware of it now. If you and the princess do something, I just want you to remember my words so you won't feel as bad."

"I will not fall for a pretty face," Jon said stoically. If it had to be, he will place the princess at arm's length. He  **cannot** fall for his half-sister or lay with her because it will be a fiasco.

Robb shook his head at him. "If it were any other time I would agree with you. However, concerning the princess, I worry. I'm sorry to say this, but I don't believe you. Jon, what I saw last night tells me many things. You know that you will get nothing from the princess. You are just going to be hurt."

 _Shit._ Jon breathed a shaky breath, to which Robb sat on the bed to place a hand on his shoulder. Jon breathed in and out from his nose slowly. Robb stayed silent, keeping his warm hand on his shoulder for the support he needed.

After he was done, Jon looked to his cousin's face. "Why are you telling me this now?"

Robb's face was pensive. "I'm telling you of this now because it is the best time. Tonight, we are having the feast around the God's Eye."

Jon laughed and it was without humor. If there was any other time for the princess to be alone with him, it was this one. The thought of being with her made his mouth water slightly. It is crazy. The princess was not undesirable and that was the troubling part. He should want to stay away from the princess, not to crave for her presence like a horny goat.

"What time is it now?" Jon asked solemnly. It has to be morn. He would have the luxury of time to ready himself for the battle between his mind and his cock. He will feel deep shame if he was consumed into lust. He has resisted the charms of different women for  **years** , and it will be fucking tragic if he can't do so now. Jon can admit that he has gotten soft because of his cousins, but surely he hasn't fallen from grace that far…

"It's around mid-day."

"What the fuck," Jon said softly. "I've been asleep for that long?"

Robb's nod was all he needed. Jon sighed and lay on his pillow.

"I wanted to bring you breakfast, and I even thought about inviting Tyrion Lannister. I then realized that you probably wouldn't like that because of your hangover, so I let you sleep."

Robb stood from the bed and rolled his shoulders. Afterward, he glanced at him and said, "I will leave you to rest. You need it for the feast ahead, brother." He walked out of the tent.

It was silent, too silent.

 _I should check on Cannibal_. Jon thought. He closed his eyes and breathed calmly; only to release that breath when he pinpointed the dragon's location. Cannibal was in Winterfell.

Dread fell upon him.  _Oh, no._

Jon broadened his awareness to touch Cannibals mind. It was not forceful in its approach, as it was just a simple tap. Even then, Cannibal recoiled and roared through the bond.

 _Leave._ Jon commanded mentally. He felt Cannibal's mind shimmer with rebellious anger, and so he became more firm.  _Leave!_

Cannibal didn't waver for a few minutes, but he soon met his terms, and then Jon severed the connection with the dragon.

When Jon comprehended that his arms were shaking, he shook his head. Though he was still feeling the strong emotion of anxiousness that was worthy of its foundation.

 _How…how long was he at Winterfell?_ He was afraid of the answer, but he couldn't have the answer anyway. He didn't know if Cannibal smoldered Winterfell or if he didn't. There was no word of anything if Winterfell was in ruins, and there was no news about a dragon flying about in the north.

Jon eased himself slowly. If no one was yelling about a destroyed castle, then Winterfell must be still intact. If this was true, Cannibal's duration in Winterfell was an unusual one. The black dragon didn't like anyone's presence, except for Jon, and will eat the ones who were too close.

For extra closure, Jon commanded through the bond for Cannibal to take shelter near Harrenhall. The place was not too close but was not too far either. Jon had to admit that he was shaken. He needed the dragon to be close to him to properly look after it and to guarantee that Cannibal won't do any harm.

Jon collapsed on his pillow from exhaustion. Trying to order around Cannibal has always been a tough thing to accomplish, and it frequently had him breathing hard.

As he lay on his bed, a thunderous growl in his stomach became known.

"Well," Jon said as he looked at his stomach in amusement, "It's time for me to feed you."  _Perhaps I can eat with Tyrion. The man must be awakening from his slumber like me._

Jon grabbed a cloak, pulled the hood over his head, and left his tent.

…

When Jon entered Tyrion's tent, everyone was present in the tent already. Tyrion, Bronn, and Sandor were eating at the table, talking as they ate.

Tyrion saw him and raised his cup. "Jon! How was your sleep?"

"Pitiful." They sniggered as Jon pulled up a chair to the table.

"You want some wine?" Tyrion asked him, grinning.

"No, I want water." He was done playing with the dwarf's games. Jon poured water in his cup and sipped it.

Bronn looked at him with a curious expression, and Jon looked at him in return.

"What?" Jon asked. The other man might have been waiting for him to say something, but Jon didn't want to. It was an important thing to know that it is only best to let the past die. He was not a boy anymore.

"Are you not going to say anything?" Bronn replied. Tyrion and Sandor watched them.

"No, because there is nothing for me to say," Jon said. The Sellsword tried to warn him, but Jon didn't listen when he should have. He gained experience and lost his naivety at the same time. Surviving in the Dothraki Sea can make a man out of anyone.

"Was I right?"

"Yes."

"And what did it cost you?"

"It cost me everything," Jon said. "You were right. However, I am still alive." His innocence was washed away, but he wouldn't be the man he was today if he hadn't. Though, he lost his innocence in the worst way possible by surviving in the Dothraki Sea alone.

Bronn nodded. "Yes, you are alive. You even made a name for yourself too, and I respect you for that. It turns out that you  **do** have balls."

"What's this shit about?" Sandor asked.

Bronn looked to the Clegane and said, "People say that he is one of the coldest killers that ever walked these lands, but I met Snow before that. It was on a ship sailing to Essos and it was there where I talked to him. And let me say this, he was fucking naive."

Jon leaned in his chair as Tyrion and Sandor looked at him in surprise.

"You," Tyrion said, voice high with disbelief, "Were naive? I always thought that you were born as the fucker you are today. I pictured you swinging your Valyrian sword around, and screaming curses as your mother gave birth to you."

They laughed, but Sandor eyed his hilt with interest. "You have Valyrian steel?" He asked gruffly.

"Aye," Jon said shortly, "And don't ask me where I got it from because I'm not going to tell you."

"Well," Bronn said, "Let us see it then."

"No." Jon shook his head. "You will see it wh-"

"When you win the fucking tourney," Tyrion finished, waving his hand dismissively. "We know already know. Now show us the bloody sword, you bastard fucker."

Jon stared at Tyrion with an impassive face, pondering. Then he stood up and drew his sword out of the scabbard. Everybody gasped as they see the smoky ripples that traveled the length of the blade. The light from outside of the tent shined on the sword and Jon can see his reflection.

Of course, being a book monger, Tyrion spoke first. "Is that…is that Blackfyre?" A look of amazement was on the dwarf's face.

"Aye, it is." Jon handed the sword to the hound, who was eyeing the sword as if it was a new toy.

"Shit…" Bronn tilted his head as the sword was passed to him. The sellsword admired the new sword before he snapped his head up. "You stole this from the Golden Company."

Jon shrugged. "It's not considered stealing if the sword wasn't theirs in the first place."

The sword was passed to Tyrion. Bronn said, "I heard that you failed to retrieve the sword. And the Company is hunting you down for that attempt, so how?"

"I found a way."

"Isn't it the Targaryen's sword?" Sandor asked. "Wouldn't they want it back?"

"Now why would he do that?" Bronn questioned, placing his legs on the table. "He's the one who found it, and he should bloody keep it. When I was a young lad, I fought and killed for what's mine. Snow did the same thing for this sword. What did the Targaryen's do? They did nothing and should receive nothing.

"I'm not keeping it," Jon declared. "I'm giving it to the Targaryens." His words were met with a wall of silence.

While Bronn and the hound stared at him with wide eyes, Tyrion looked at him with an expressionless face.

"Now, why would you do that?" Bronn said slowly after some time.

"The sword is not mine, it is theirs," Jon replied. "This sword belongs to them and I will give it to them."

"Don't do it," Sandor said.

"I will." Jon's words were as hard as iron.

"That is stupid," Bronn hissed. "A Valyrian steel sword is very fucking rare. Are you are saying you will give it away?"

"Yes." Jon looked to the silent Tyrion. "And Valyrian swords are not rare to this man over here. He has a collection of these swords somewhere."

Sandor snorted and sipped his drink. "And he is not going to use them."

"I was considering giving you and Bronn Valyrian steel, but that decision is falling away quickly," Tyrion said.

Sandor and Bronn fell silent. Jon grabbed the sword and sheathed it. He looked at them all and said, "I will hand this over to the crown prince at the feast tonight. What you say is not going to change my mind."

Jon thought hard about this decision-making. When Jon held the sword in his hands for the first time, his mind immediately shifted to the Targaryens. He didn't feel like a dragon, and he wanted to give the sword to his family as a gift. The Targaryens might never figure out who he was because he was named as a bastard, but he can give the sword to them as an unknown family member. Jon wanted to do this for the good of his heart, Besides, he has more swords.

Jon sat back down to the table. Tyrion gave him a sad smile, to which Jon returned before looking at his food.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.

…

Jon, Tyrion, Sandor, and Bronn walked together as one after they ate. The sun has gone down from view, and the moon was bright in the dark sky in all of it's glory. As Bronn and Sandor talked behind them, Tyrion walked to Jon's side.

"It is a good thing to give the sword to them," Tyrion said.

"I know," Jon responded.

Tyrion chuckled and said, "You truly don't boast about anything do you?"

Jon smirked and glanced at the dwarf. "This should be well known to you about this. I don't talk what I'm about to do, I act."

"Oh, I know this. It just amazes me because what you're about to do is very unselfish, and you are doing it for a family that didn't earn the right to have the sword. If I had that sword, I will not do the same for my family. You, Jon Snow, are a good person."

Jon fixed his gaze forward. "I try to be."

"You are a good person. I'm not saying that you don't have flaws because you have many. I'm trying to explain that people are awfully wrong about you. I spent a year with you Snow and I see, under all of that gruffness, is a pretty darn good fellow that is just misunderstood."

Finally, Jon let a small smile take shape on his lips. The smile went away as Tyrion spoke again.

"Surprisingly, the only person who cares enough to try to see as I do is princess Rhaenys." Tyrion looked at him as he said that, eyes observant.

Jon's upper teeth and bottom teeth pushed together forcefully, but he looked down at Tyrion with a straight face. "Don't talk about this because someone already had a talk with me on this."  _If a drunken man spotted this, how many others did as well?_  But Tyrion is a smart man. And Robb just knows him better than anyone else. Perhaps he was worrying over this too much.

"Are we missing something here?" Bronn came to Tyrion's side. A heartbeat later, Sandor came to Jon's side.

"Nope," Jon answered.

"Bullshit," Sandor said.

"Is it bullshit?" Jon glanced to Tyrion.

Tyrion looked at him, but zero words came out of his mouth. The four sustained their walk through the night.

When they arrived at the feast, all the tables were set and the torches were bright. Blankets were placed on the grass for the ones who didn't want to sit at the long tables, and people, sitting or not sitting, talked gleefully.

The feast has a clear view of the largest lake to the seven kingdoms to the ones that wanted to see it. The lake was illuminated by the creamy, white moon, and a large group of people was currently gawking at the waters as it sparkled underneath the moonlight.  _The bank is a good sight._

And there she was, the princess. Rhaenys talked amongst her group of ladies by the lake, with the moon shining down on her just like it did the lake. Her hair was tied up in a neat knot on top of her head; a few loose strands of hair touched her face. Her orange dress hugged her body nicely, showing the body of a grown woman. Right then and there, Jon told himself that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Rhaenys smiled as if someone told her a good jest, and then her eyes slid to his. She looked him over slowly and gave him a smile. To the side of the princess, the Sand Snakes stopped talking to glance at him. One of them, the ugliest one, scowled at him. The other two eyed him in curiosity.

Jon smiled a little at Rhaenys despite him trying not to. The princesses smile expanding was the last thing he saw before he turned away.

"There is the crown prince, Jon," Tyrion told him, pointing to the table where the prince sat with his wife and uncle. The two kingsguard behind them stood poised, watching everything. Aegon looked disinterest in the feast. The prince sat in his chair, saying nothing.

Jon was ready to move to that table when he saw Mya sitting by herself, her back against a tree.  _I made her a promise._

He looked to Tyrion and said, "I'll do it later." He broke off from the other three and walked to the lonely handmaid. People walked out of his way, so he had no trouble walking to Mya.

Jon chuckled at the possibility of the princess narrowing her eyes at them. He sat down next to Mya and looked around. The feast was grand in size, and people lounged everywhere. Jon smirked as he saw Darkstar. The wounded man sat to himself; he glowered at anyone who stared at him for too long. Darkstar stopped glowering when he looked to him. Jon stared at Darkstar and then looked away before the man can start his tirade.

"Snow," Mya said in greeting.

"Call me Jon."

"You actually came to talk to me," Mya said, her voice coated in slight surprise.

"You expected any less from me?" Jon asked with a brow raised.

Mya looked down at her hands. "No, I suppose not. It's just a shock that you chose to talk to me when there are others that wanted to talk to you."

"Who are those people?"

Mya inclined her head. "Judging by the way she is staring at you, princess Rhaenys is one of those people."

Jon didn't turn to look, but he can feel a pair of eyes that were burning holes in the back of his head. "Oh, and how is she staring?"

Mya tilted her head in thought, a smile forming on her serious face. "She looks like if she had a dragon then she would order it to burn you until there is nothing but bones and ash." She picked up a stick and threw it behind her.

Jon didn't physically react, but his insides were shivering. He can tell that Mya is not one who exaggerates. If she says it is that bad, then it must be very disconcerting to witness.

"You can look for yourself," Mya told him. "But look carefully, turn your head slowly so no one can see, especially her. I genuinely worry about your health if she caught you."

Jon nodded at the handmaid.  _I worry too._

He cracked his neck and slowly turned his head. It was a slow course of action, but Jon was the master of patience and had done this before.

He estimated that it took three minutes for him to settle into an angle where his eyes can roam without being noticed. It was from the corner of his eyes where he saw the princess.

It was scary to look at. Jon faced a shitload of things that weren't normal and weren't human. None of them monsters scared him, but this somehow did. The princess was absolutely livid. The glass in her hand seemed to have cracks from the way she was gripping it. Her lips were pursed tightly, and she was frowning profoundly. Even when Rhaenys was being talked to, she nodded along but kept watching him. Her sharp eyes seemed to be stabbing him as Jon sat there. The princess's angry state was unnoticed by everyone except for him and Mya. Rhaenys did a remarkable job covering her emotions, but Jon can see through that. He wanted to go to her and explained himself, but he sat where he was.

Jon blew out a breath and looked to Mya. "Damn, you are right."

"She always gets what she wants."

Jon turned his head to Mya quickly. "What?" He expected her to say something but not this.

Mya stared at him curiously. "The only time the princess stares like that is when she wants' something. The princess always gets what interests her."

Mya leaned closer, blue eyes peering at him seriously. "Tell me this, Jon Snow, what is so interesting about you that you caught her attention?"

_Hell, I don't even know._

Jon shrugged and looked at her carelessly. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

Mya ran her eyes over his face, head, and body. She didn't rush as she checked him over. Mya nodded and looked away. "You are very handsome. With those pretty eyes of yours, anyone would want you, but you're a bastard though. Your looks don't change who you are. How you act, on the other hand, is somewhat desirable as well."

"I know," Jon answered. "But I've never asked for this." He didn't know how he caught the princess's eye. Everything just started when he first came to that hall. Rhaenys grabbed his attention and vice-versa.

"I'm afraid that you can't help this matter," Mya replied. "I see how she is looking at you. She is lusting after you. It's quite interesting to see this. No man gained this much attention from her."

"Maybe you should be the one to tell her that it's not a good idea," Jon replied shrewdly. "There is nothing that will come out of this in the long run."

"I'm not suggesting a long one term. I'm suggesting pleasure for the short term."

Jon laughed. It was loud and sudden, and it caused several people to glance at him. He saw Robb and the other Northerners staring at him too. Jon can feel that the princess's eyes were still on him. From the corner of his eye, he can see that Rhaenys was whispering harshly to her cousins.

Jon's laughter died and he looked to Mya, still wanting to laugh. He whispered, "Me? Do you think I have the chance to bed the princess? I don't think you fully comprehended the concept of a bastard fucking a Targaryen." He just wanted to roll in the grass and laugh until he dies. Right now, that seemed like a fabulous idea.

Mya adopted a smile of her own and whispered, "The picture is extreme indeed." He and she chuckled.

"Though, the princess has been staying in Dorne for the past couple of years. She could have taken after their ways as well. It means that she can accept bastards."

"Ok, Mya." Jon stood up and wiped his knees. "We've had…a pleasant talk, but I need to leave because…"

Mya looked behind him to Rhaenys and said, "I understand fully. I will keep what we said in silence. To the next time we talk, Jon."

Jon nodded and turns around, only to be grabbed by Robb and a few other northern men.

Robb shook him, a glint in his eyes. "Are you ready to sing, brother?" He asked this with a grin that the others shared too.

_What?_

"What are you about to do, Robb?" Jon asked cautiously. If Robb had the purpose of doing something that related to him, then it was something to be wary for. The Stark causes too much mischief for his own good.

"We are about to fucking sing!" Lord Umber bellowed. A few people grimaced at the man's loud volume, but they watched them curiously.

"Then good luck," Jon said. "I wish you a great fortune for the horrible singing to come."

"Did you really say horrible singing?" Theon asked as if he was being ludicrous. "You're a funny man." The Greyjoy pointed to Domeric. "You think this bloke is horrible at singing?"

"No. I didn't mean to include him. I meant all of you except for him." Jon stared at every north man that surrounded him. "Y'all know that your singing is horse shit, don't lie to me," Jon said with a smirk. Their circle was now getting attention from other houses.

Laughter aroused.

"That is true," Lord Umber said. "Every word we say sounds like shit. Does that extend to you as well?"

No, it bloody doesn't.

Theon spoke up, "Sing with that golden mouth of yours, pretty boy. We've heard you sing before. The ladies have no idea what's coming for them. Jon, make them shiver and make them faint."

Everyone laughed again.

At Winterfell, Jon sang for all of the audience to hear. Let's say this, they bloody loved his voice. The lords even offered gold for him to sing more, but Jon refused. He already had enough money from being with the Golden Company.

"Why should I sing?" Jon asked.

"Because why not?" Robb said. Strangely, everyone tensed as if to do something. Everyone was grouped around him as if he was a lost hidden treasure. Their eyes were all eager.

"What if I'm not in the mood to sing?"

"THEN FUCK YOU!" Everyone shouted. Jon was picked up by the men and carried through the crowd. The hands on his back and bottom were firm so he had no chance to fall off or to escape. Jon didn't try to escape from them though. He just stared at the night sky, admiring the many stars and the white moon that shined on the princess not too long ago. There were so many stars in the sky, so Jon started counting them.

The group stopped in front of the table where the Targaryen's sat. Jon was dropped to his feet and pushed forward.

Cersei and Joffrey looked down at him, while Aegon, Margaery, Viserys, Tyrion and Tommen looked at him in interest. Oberyn eyed him calmly, but it was the other person who sat next to him that drew his eye. She was dark skin and obviously from Dorne. Even as she sat, Jon can see she was short. The woman has a pretty face, large bosom, thick legs and has long hair.

Arianne Martell looked at him, slowly licking her lips. Jon stood there, staring at her large bosom before Rhaenys sat next to her. Jon looked away from her frown and looked to the prince.

"What do you need to say?" Aegon asked.

Robb came forward and patted his shoulder. "My brother has the good grace to wanting to sing for us, my prince."

"No I don't," Jon hissed in his cousin's ear. Robb clamped a hand on his shoulder and turned him away.

Everyone looked surprised and started talking.  _Nobody thinks I can sing._

"You want to sing, Snow?" Aegon asked. The prince said it politely, but he couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice.

 _He thinks I don't have the voice for it._  Jon thought. Maybe it was because he knows that he can do it, or maybe he wants to prove his brother wrong, but now he wanted to sing. He was very misunderstood indeed.

"I do." The group behind him cheered. The other people stayed quiet.

"I've heard him sing before, my prince," Tyrion said. "His voice rivals your fathers."

There were gasps and shouts of denials.

"That is something that cannot be said so lightly. Snow looks like a fighter but does not have the look of a singer," Aegon said, not looking convinced or persuaded. "The king is-"

"Maybe you should shut your mouth and let him sing. You talk too much, little brother. When he is done, then you can compare him to our father," Rhaenys interrupted. Arianne chuckled.  _Damn…_

Silence descended on them.

Aegon stared at his older sister. His eyes shining like two balls of purple flame. Rhaenys stared back calmly, taking a sip of her wine out of her new glass at a snail's pace. The siblings were watched with unease by everyone. Next, to the princess, Arianne just looks amused. Oberyn had a smile on his face. Viserys face was guarded. Tommen looked uncomfortable. Joffrey and Cerci watched them happily.

"Umm…I guess I can sing now?" Jon asked quietly.  _Do I always have a hand to make everything so fucking silent?_

That broke the tension. Aegon looked away from his sister and smiled. "Yes, I will be happy to hear you sing." As he said that, he side glanced at his sister. Everything seemed to be going back in order, but the princess opened her mouth again.

"We all need an older sister that can provide sense to the lesser minded sibling, or they are just going to be brain fucked."

"Snow, you can sing now," Aegon said coolly.  _The crown prince just got chewed out in front of everyone. And his sister just said he was brain fucked… Ah, the brother and sister bickering. What a joy to watch._

"It would be an honor." Jon turned around slowly, placing a hand over his lips and chuckled. Robb did the same and both of them chuckled softly. Not too long after, their shoulders were shaking. The north group chuckled lowly as well. It took a couple of minutes for their silent laughter to die.

Jon stopped his chuckles and nodded at the group. Robb, Theon, and Domeric grabbed an instrument and started playing a soft, powerful, moving tune that seemed loud when it wasn't. It was this way for a reason, and Jon is going to show them why. It was a song he had made when he was a prisoner to Euron Greyjoy. To stop himself from going mad, he came up with this. The song was all that he had when he was chained and tortured for weeks.

Jon looked to the moon and to the ground, taking a breath. He swallowed and opened his mouth, the words falling out like the river around Riverrun.

" _Through Westeros over fen and field_

" _Where the long grass grows_

" _The west wind comes walking,_

" _And about the walls, it goes_

" _What news from the west, O wandering wind_

" _Do you bring to me tonight?_

" _Have you seen Boromir of the north_

" _By moon or by starlight?_

" _I saw him ride over the seven kingdoms,_

" _Over waters wide and grey,_

" _I saw him walk in empty lands_

" _Until he passed away_

" _Into the shadows of the north_

" _I saw him then no more._

" _The north wind may have heard the horn_

" _Of the son of the old gods_

" _O Boromir! From the north_

" _Westward I looked afar,_

" _But you came not from the empty lands_

" _Where no men are_

" _From the mouths of the sea_

" _The south wind flies,_

" _From the south and the Stepstones;_

" _The welling of the creatures it bears,_

" _And in the waters, it moans_

" _What news from the south, O sighing wind,_

" _Do you bring to me at eve?_

" _Where now is Boromir of the north?_

" _He tarries and I grieve_

" _He went back beyond the wall,_

" _And I saw him no more_

Jon stopped and so did the others. It was silent.

The first person he looked to was the princess. Rhaenys had tears, which she tried to hide by blinking her eyes. She sniffed and smiled at him, something in her eyes that he cannot place.

Most of the ladies were teary-eyed. The men tried to look unaffected but it was futile. Margaery used her hand as a fan, tears on her cheeks. Aegon did not try to keep himself from gaping because he already was. The prince did not look bored anymore.

The prince blinked and shook his head, smiling. Aegon went to his feet and clapped hard. For a moment his clapping was the only thing to be heard before the rest of his table clapped as well.

Very soon, there was nothing but the clapping. There were yells from everywhere, but the north was the loudest. Robb was slapping his shoulder, yelling and smiling. The rest of the northern group was shaking him and shouting so loud that Jon thought he would go deaf.

At one point, Jon fell but was quickly picked up by Robb. Out from the blue, Arya, Rickon and Bran ran up to him and hugged him at the waist. Sansa didn't run but came quickly and kissed him on the cheek.

When the clapping and the shouting stopped, Jon was sure that his back was bruised, and he was breathing deeply out from his nose.

Jon knew, with Robb's hand around his shoulder and his own arms around his cousins, that he was smiling profusely. Nothing can ruin this for him. Nothing will.

"Who is Boromir?!" Someone shouted.

Jon looked to the woman and said, "He is no one. I made the song from scratch."

"Was I right, my prince?" Tyrion asked.

"Yes, very right," Aegon said breathlessly. He still looked at Jon with awe.

Rhaenys smirked at her brother, still clapping. "Do you see now, little brother? I'm a great help." Arianne chuckled and placed a hand on her arm.

Aegon ignored her to look at Jon. "Snow, that was fucking beautiful. I never believed anyone can match my father until now, good job man."

"Thank you, my prince," Jon said. "The compliments are good to me, but I am not done."

"I will not mind listening to you again," Aegon said. Everyone's face was in agreement. Some nodded, and others outright demanded him to sing more.

"It's not a song," Jon replied, touching his scabbard, "it's a sword."

When he drew the sword, everyone jumped, and the kingsguard took their swords out as well and moved to him. People ran from their tables to find a safe spot to watch.  _Everybody is…is scared of me…_

"Jon!" Rhaenys and Robb shouted at the same time. One of the kingsguard pushed the prince back while the other stepped to him. Viserys drew his sword along with Oberyn. Cersei took Tommen and Joffrey by the hands and pushed them to a nearby tree.

Jon merely held the sword in his hands. While he knew Robb would call his name at this, he never heard the princess raise her voice before. Robb  **and**  Rhaenys calling his name is so fucking hilarious that he wanted to laugh in their faces, but he didn't do it. He kept his face placid and looked to the prince.

Thankfully, right when the kingsguard was in striking distance, Tyrion ran to the middle of this. "STOP THIS!" People's limbs went still.

Everyone blinked at the dwarf stupidly. Loras spat at him. "Move out the way!"

"He is trying to harm the crown prince," Jaime said. "It's our duty to stop him from doing so." He tried to move around but Tyrion blocked him.

"I'm not stupid, Lannister," Jon said. "I don't want to kill the prince."  _I don't want to kill my brother._

"Then what are you doing with that sword in your hands?" Rhaenys demanded. She looked as if she is trying to be mad at him for taking the sword out, and she looked like she is trying to be concerned for him. Jon felt warmth in his chest at that.

Jon looked to her and said, "I want to give this to your family."

Boldly, like the dragon of her sigil, Rhaenys came around the table to stand in front of him to eye the sword. Despite the loud protest of Loras, she came to his side until their shoulders were in contact. Jon knew that she did this deliberately. The princess touched the length and looked at him. "What is it?"

"It's Blackfyre," Tyrion announced. The next second after he said that, people walked from the trees and the prince walked past the kingsguard. Curious eyes were on the sword now, completely forgetting whey they ran.

"You've said that my sword catches your eye, my princess," Jon said. "So, I want to give it to you."

Jon mentally smacked his head because Robb, who was still behind him, took a sharp breath. To his great relief, no one else heard his comment.  _When I talk to her, why do my words have double meanings?_

Rhaenys looked back at him with speed. Her eyes were slightly larger than normal before she smiled. "I did mean what I said. And I know that you want to give it to me. You won't regret it."

 _Her double meanings._ Jon's other sword spiked through his trousers until it started to hurt from the lack of space. Robb laughed and draped his long arm around his neck.

"You gave me quite a scare, brother!" Robb then leads him away from the princess to the prince. "Drawing your sword like that at the prince!" A couple of people laughed, but it was slightly anxious.

"I am unpredictable," Jon responded. Robb just laughed but it was not real.  _He is pissed. Perhaps I should've planned this better._

They stood in front of Aegon. Jon looked at the prince calmly, his hands still holding the Valyrian steel in front.

Aegon grasped the hilt and turned the sword upright. The prince had a smile on his face, and his eyes were flashing with awe. Tommen jogged to his side to eye the sword alongside his father.

"It's marvelous," Viserys exclaimed. He looked at Jon and said, "Where did you get this?"

"I stole it from the Golden Company."

"Lie!" Cersei walked to them with Joffrey in hand. She shoved past Viserys and came right in Jon's face, scowling.

"Why are you lying, bastard?" Cersei questioned. "We've already known that you failed in your worthless effort to get the sword. This could be a fake!" Joffrey nodded. Everyone was silent as they watched him to see what he will do or say.

When she was talking, her spit came launching out of her mouth in Jon's face like a ballista. As he stared at Cersei silently, he moved his hand down his face gradually to remove the warm saliva. There were suppressed sniggers in the crowd.

Jon nodded and looked to Cersei. "First of all, you shouldn't talk to me like you know me."

"How dar-"

"Secondly, you're going to find out real quick that I don't quit."

"Shut-"

"Thirdly, I always find a way."

"Speak one mor-"

"Fourthly, do you know who I am?"

Cersei's face turned haughty, and she laughed. "That's easy. You are a Snow."

"No." Jon's eyes looked around the waiting faces. He turned back to Cersei and coldly said, "I am  **Jon**  Snow, the finest blade the east has ever seen since the days of Bittersteel."  _Remember that, you bitch._

He then smirked, bowing his head in mockery.

Everyone was staring at him in surprise. There were no sounds to be heard. The rustling of the leaves was the only thing that prevented the air from being total silence. His hair blew in his face as a burst of wind slapped their faces.

"And the sword is not fake," Jon said at last. He walked past Cersei and grabbed the Valyrian sword out of Aegon's hands. He went over to a random tree and sliced with all of his might. On impact, the sword carved through the tree with no resistance. The tree leans slanted slightly but it moved no more after that. Some people gasped and clapped their hands.

He walked back over to the prince and handed him the sword, smirking at Cerci the whole time. He wanted to say something else to the bitch but chose not to.

"Snow is right. You should stop talking," Viserys said to Cersei. The Woman huffed.

Aegon sat back down, still eyeing the sword in his hands. After savoring the sight of the sword, he looked to Jon. "You got this from the Golden Company?"

"He already said yes, little brother," Rhaenys said in annoyance.

"Aye, I did," Jon said. He spoke before the prince can respond to the princess so there can be no more arguing.

By now, everyone was seated again.

"Is this the only reason why the Golden Company has a bounty on your head?" Aegon asked curiously. "There are so many stories about you. Funny enough, It's almost like a spider web."

"You have a bounty on your head?!" Robb shouted, cutting in. The other northerners looked shocked as well. Arya, Bran, Rickon, and Sansa looked frightened and angry.

"You didn't know?" Jon asked.  _This is old news._

"No!"

"Well, damn." Jon smiled. "That just made everything complicated." Aegon and Tyrion shared his smile. Rhaenys still frowned.

"Damn right it did!" Robb's voice was lowered this time, but it was still incensed. "Why didn't you tell father? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Or me?!" Arya joined.

"Or me?!" Bran added.

"You've could've told all of us," Sansa said demurely. "We are your family."

"You should have told me too!" Rickon yelled. His voice was high and there was a slight squeak. Already, Jon heard a couple of sniggers.

Jon blinked at the quantity of angry Stark faces and moved to have some space. He looked at Robb. "I thought you were already aware."

"The north does not get as much news as the south," Aegon said, going to his defense. "It is not his fault. Well, except for getting the bounty in the first place."

Robb nodded stiffly. "Ok, go on and explain why you have the bounty."

The Starks crossed their arms, all of them looking crossed.

Jon's smile left his face. It was a painful thing to remember, and nobody realized or cared. That dreadful day, it was clear as day even now.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to," Rhaenys said softly. She glared at Aegon and Robb as if they were was forcing Jon to talk. In return, a few people glared at the princess.

_The funny thing is I want to do something if someone tells me not to._

"I want to speak, my princess." Rhaenys nodded, eyes worried.

"No, stealing that sword was not the only reason why I have a bounty." At this, everyone sat up in their chair.

Jon eyed them and said, "I have a bounty because I've killed their head leader and their secrete Blackfrye." He finally said it. His secret was reserved to himself for so long. It felt good to confess it.

The peaceful night sky was shattered by shouts. The Targaryen's stared at him, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

Jon's eyes closed as the image of the young man he had killed flashed in his mind. He was not feeling mournful over Harry, but for his  **friend**. Jon wasn't aware that the young man was a Blackfrye because of his dyed, golden hair. Harry claimed that the man was his second son, and his name was Olly. Olly was a good man, so Jon liked him better than the arrogant fuck that was James.

Olly was his best mate in the Golden Company. He was smart, funny, kind and just a decent man all around. Though he was just so misled and stubborn.

After doing the assignments that the Golden Company threw at him, Harry finally trusted him. The general-commander revealed who Olly really was and what their plans were. They wanted to invade Westeros with a Blackfrye at their back.

Jon pleaded with Harry and Olly but they would not listen; therefore, he did what he had to do. He was from Westeros. He didn't want to have a war on his homeland. Olly and Harry were alone in the tent that night, thinking they could trust him.

There was so much betrayal in Olly's eyes when Jon's sword was in his chest. The betrayal had not once left his eyes, even as Jon's sword slithered out from his body, and even when he bleeds his life away next to the dead Harry. In the next few days, Jon was hunted through the free cities like an animal.

_Stop thinking about that, Olly is gone. Nothing will bring him back._

Aegon stood from his chair and yelled, "Calm down!"

The only reason why people complied because they wanted to hear what will be said next.

Aegon sat in his chair, his head on his intertwined fingers. He said, "If what you said is true, then you are hero, Snow."

"Why should we trust the word of a bastard?" Joffrey asked.

"Because this bastard has no reason to lie," Viserys said. "Joffrey, go to bed."

Joffrey gazed at his father with a lost expression. "But I'm not tired, father."

"I don't care. You need to go to bed."

Joffrey snarled in anger. "I am old enough to not be sent to bed!"

"Do you want to get slapped again?"

Cersei stood up and grabbed Joffrey's hand. "No, surely he doesn't." They both left.

"You brought our sword back to our family," Aegon started, "You killed a Blackfyre. You prevented a war. This is legendary, Snow."

"He did say that he is the finest blade in the east," Rhaenys said, smiling at Jon.

Aegon chuckled. "Yes. He just might be." He hoisted his goblet in the air. "Everyone, give a round of applause to Jon Snow!" The prince stood and walked to him. Jon frowned to what he was doing until Aegon's arms were around him.

People thumped their fist on the table and lifted their goblets. In everyone's eyes, there was respect and approval. There were nods that weren't there in the beginning. There were smiles now that he thought he would never get. Arianne continued to eye him with lust. Rhaenys smile was so real and bright that it reminded him of the sun of the Martell sigil. Aegon patted his shoulder and went back to his table.

"Let us sit down, brother." Robb's face was proud. Jon and the Starks walked with the north men to their tables. The rest of the night passed by; Jon didn't notice because he was busy laughing and making jokes.

….

The feast was over, and Robb and the others left already. Jon didn't leave with them. Jon knew Ghost was nearby, and he wanted to see the Direwolf. It was near the bank where he found Ghost. The direwolf was on his side, lazily licking his side. Ghost perked his head but didn't get up.

Jon walked over and sat down, rubbing Ghost's belly. "Why didn't you say hello to me? You were around after all."

Ghost didn't reply. His eyelids were closed, and his tongue was hanging out. Jon laughed and rubbed Ghost's stomach harder.

"I never thought a man would talk to an animal like that."  _Oh, damn._

Jon turned around to see the princess standing there. He hastily stood to his feet. Ghost merely gazed at the Targaryen, eyes disinterested.

"He is not an animal to me." Jon peeked over the shoulder of the princess to see if anyone was there. However, there was not a soul to be seen. Jon looked to the princess and said, "He is my partner."

Rhaenys hummed and walked to Ghost. She scratched Ghost's ear, and the direwolf closed his eyes. The princess laughed and asked, "What's his name?"

"His name is Ghost, your highness."

Rhaenys stopped scratching Ghost and narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you going to forget our agreement so early, Jon?" She was angry. Her exotic face was in a frown. Oddly enough, Jon found it attractive.

"I'm sorry, Rhaenys." His eyes drifted to her exposed cleavage. He looked back up to see that the princess was more amused now than angry.

"What are you staring at?" Rhaenys asked sweetly. Jon knew that he was caught gazing.  _What is happening to me?_

"I am staring at the sky."  _Ok, that was bad. Who would ever believe that?_

Rhaenys stepped around Ghost and touched Jon's cheek. She got closer until her breath was on his. Rhaenys whispered, "Why are you not telling the truth?"

"Telling the truth about what?"

"That you want me." Rhaenys pressed her body weight against him. Jon wrapped his hands around her waist. Their lips were almost touching. Jon was positive that the princess can feel his bulge poking her stomach.

"I want you, Jon," Rhaenys said in a light voice. "I know you want me too, but I want you to say it." They were so close now that they were cuddling.

 _I can't say it. She is my sister. I have to stop this._  Jon's resolve weakened as Rhaenys smiled at him. Her lips seemed to be so inviting.

"I do."

"What did you say? I didn't hear you?" Rhaenys said, teasing. She pressed her head on the crook of his neck and rubbed her hands on his back.

"I want you." Jon can't deny it anymore. He can't fight this battle because it was impossible to win. He wants his sister. He had lost.  _Robb, I'm sorry._

"I'm not angry that you were talking to my handmaid."

_What? She looked like she wanted to murder me._

Jon looked at her. "You're not mad?"

Rhaenys paused in her rubbing of his back. She turned to him, face frowning as she pondered. "I was mad at first, but then I realized something."

"And that is?"

The princess smiled softly, and Jon's belly had butterflies because of it. "That you are my man." She kissed the crook of his neck with affection.

Something in Jon snapped. The last of his shabby control vanished. He tried for a moment to search for that control but it was nowhere to be found. He put his head on the princess's shoulder to regain what he lost because he feared if he didn't, but Rhaenys still kissed his neck. The princess kissed one area to another while keeping her full lips on his skin. Every so often, she made a hushed, popping sound with her lips.

Jon couldn't take it anymore. He gives up fighting. He couldn't resist her temptations any longer. With strength that came from rigorous training, he picked Rhaenys from her bottom. Rhaenys gasped and snaked her arms around his neck. Jon pushed her against a tree and grabbed her ass. The princess's squeal was muted because Jon smashed his lips against hers. They kissed with passion and grabbed the faces of the other to find more space in each other's mouth. They've been ready to do this since the welcoming feast, so it was heated and they were eager.

What Jon is doing was wrong. He was kissing his sister, and he knew that it could drastically change into something else if they don't stop. But he couldn't stop his tongue from struggling from Rhaenys's. Her mouth was too warm to leave, and her body felt too good to not clutch.

Jon's hands were underneath her dress. To his shock, she was wearing no smallclothes. When his hand touched her wet entrance, Rhaenys moaned in his mouth. Jon toyed with it, watching how the princess reacted. Rhaenys left his mouth and looked to the sky, gasping.

 _I…I should stop._  What they were doing felt so good to Jon, but he has to stop. Jon gave one last kiss to Rhaenys's opened mouth before backing away. He just had to give her one last kiss. Her delicious mouth was too open for him to not to feel again. Against his better judgment, Jon went back over and sucked on her neck before moving from her. This time, he would stay calm.

Rhaenys didn't say anything right away. She breathed hard, eyes closed. At last, she leaned her head on the tree and smiled at him. Her chest was falling up and down as she panted, but her eyes were filled with pleasure.

"You're an amazing kisser."

"You are too." He had the urge to say more about how she kissed him. This woman…This woman was the first one to ever bring him over the edge. He was never kissed like that before; he never kissed a woman like that too. What did this mean?

Rhaenys smiled. She walked over to him and put her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around him again. "Jon, why did you stop? What we had going on was glorious."

_What we had going on was incest, princess._

"It is getting late," Jon said. The truth was that if they hadn't stopped the pleasure of the flesh would have been followed by trouble. The princess didn't really care but Jon did.

Rhaenys brought her head from his chest and traced his lips with her finger. "We both know the real reason why."

"Ok, if you say so."

Rhaenys laughed and pecked him on the lips. "I know so. It's fine if you are not ready yet."

She then came close to his ear and whispered. "We have all the time in the world because you are  **my** man. You don't belong to anyone else besides me."

Rhaenys kissed him again for a long moment. They separated afterward. The princess rubbed his chest and then walked away.

Jon stared at Rhaenys as she disappeared. When she was fully out of sight, Jon fell to his knees and sighed.  _What have I done?_

It didn't matter now to question things. Nothing is going to be the same. He and the princess is something else now. Jon knew that he couldn't be apart if he tried, and Rhaenys wouldn't let him go anyway. The princesses soft skin seemed to still be on his hands even when she is gone. Jon wiped his fingers on his thigh to remove the wetness. He didn't look at it when he did it because it would remind him of how willing the princess was. Jon didn't need that now. He was afraid that he would chase after her to finish what they started.

Ghost padded over to him and licked Jon's face. Jon was comforted by this, but his worries were not calmed.  _I almost took my sister against a tree._  Jon knew for certain that the princess had him wrapped around her finger.

**Rhaenys**

"Did you enjoy the lake, my princess?" Jamie asked when she was in view.

Rhaenys wanted to smirk. She did enjoy the lake, though she enjoyed the lake with another person. Everyone knew that she was crafty and manipulative. Rhaenys used those talents tonight.

She was the one to suggest having the feast outside to her brother. She couldn't care less if it was inside or outside. She just wanted to have Jon Snow to herself. Rhaenys wanted to talk to him earlier but didn't get the chance to do so. The blabbering fools wouldn't leave her alone. The only bright side was her cousins.

 _Nevertheless, I got what I came for._  She, without a doubt, got what she craved from the beginning. Rhaenys saw Jon leaving, and she persuaded Jaime to leave her be; saying that she wanted to look at the lake alone. It was worth it. She kissed Jon, and he kissed back. At first, Rhaenys thought he would put up a tougher fight, but it appeared he couldn't resist her at all. Jon wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Rhaenys was glad that he didn't defy her. The kiss they had was so, so breathtaking. No man had the balls, or the skill to move their tongue like that. Rhaenys would have been all too happy if Jon hadn't retreated from their kiss. She was ready for it but he wasn't. Rhaenys was a tad disappointed because they didn't take the step further. But she thought about how crude and basic it would be if Jon fucked her against the tree.

 _No, it has to be right._ Rhaenys thought. When she first saw him, she just wanted to have a night of pleasure with him and that was it. That changed when they danced together. It changed even further when he played his song with the moon at his back. Rhaenys never saw a more handsome man when he sang.

"Yes, it was most impressive," Rhaenys said. Her smile must have been too happy because Jaime looked suspicious. She was known for her wit, not for her smiles like Aegon. She saved her smiles for a purpose. And so far, she sent more smiles to Jon than any other person in her life.

"What's with that look?" Rhaenys questioned. "But let us leave. I am ready to retire." She walked past the kingsguard.

"We may go, my princess." Jaime bowed his head and walked behind her.

….

When Rhaenys opened the door to her room, Arianne was there. Instead of being happy to see her cousin, she felt angry. Rhaenys saw how she was looking at her man, and she didn't like it at all. It was time to set some boundaries with her cousin.

Arianne smiled at her and said, "Rhae, how did you enjoy the feast?" She sat on the bed.

"It was enjoyable," Rhaenys said shortly, frowning.  _I don't care about the fucking feast. I care about Jon._

Arianne coyly smiled. "The feast would surely be more boring if it wasn't for Jon Snow."

Even now, her cousin's voice was full of wanting. Rhaenys was not dimwitted. Arianne was lusting over the bastard.

Rhaenys eyes narrowed and said, "It sure would." The revelation shocked everyone. Everyone thought Jon was just a failed thief, and Rhaenys was pleased that the opinion changed. She had to thank Aegon later for showing Jon the gratitude he earned.

Arianne laughed. "Why are you giving me the stink eye, cousin?"

_I'm looking at you this way because I want you to leave my man alone._

"You are displeasing me," Rhaenys replied. "You deserve it."

Arianne looked around in the pretense of confusion before looking at her. "I'm afraid I do not know what you mean." In her eyes, she knew what she was doing.

"Stop acting like you are too fucked up in your ass to understand what I meant," Rhaenys snapped. "This is about Snow."

"Ah, Snow." Arianne's smile turned lusty. "What a fine human being he is."

Her smile only served to make Rhaenys more irritated. She stepped closer to Arianne. "I saw how you were watching him tonight. You were eyeing him like he was a piece of spice meat from Dorne."

Arianne shrugged, still smiling at her. "What about it?"

_If you don't stop playing with me I will slap you, cousin._

"I want you to leave him alone," Rhaenys said sharply.

Arianne grew angry. She got up from the bed and got close to her face. Rhaenys was tall for a woman, while Arianne was short. Therefore, Rhaenys was able to stare her down. Arianne met her stare, not intimidated.

"Nobody tells me who I can't want, and you can't either," Arianne said.

"I am the princess," Rhaenys countered with a laugh.

"Yet you can't order me to do anything," Arianne replied with a grin. "Wouldn't everyone be confused if you are telling me to not go after him? It would break your image as a princess."

"I don't care what the sheep have to say," Rhaenys growled. "Snow is my man."  _Jon is a man that I never met before. I'm not going to let my cousin take him away from me._

"He is your man?" Arianne chuckled. "You've just met him, and you already acting possessive."

"Does that matter?" Rhaenys asked. It was true that it was odd for her to act like this for a man she barely knows. But Jon is special. Rhaenys knows that he is special. She will not let anyone steal him away from her.

"I'm sorry, Rhae." By the smile on Arianne's face, she was not sorry at all. "Nothing will stop me from going after him. Hell, he might even enjoy it."

Angered, Rhaenys grabbed Arianne around the arm and squeezed. Rhaenys looked her in the eye and said, "You don't listen, do you? I'm telling you that he is not going to be one of your conquests. Snow is mine to have. Do you hear me, cousin?"

Arianne smiled in the face of her anger. "I do hear you, but you are not going to stop me. If you want Snow to yourself… **earn**  it."

The princess of Dorn slipped from her grasp and left the room.

Jaime looked in the room. "Are you ok, your highness?"

Rhaenys breathed in and out from her nose. "Yes." But nothing was ok. Her cousin is going after her man with lust, and Rhaenys is going to prevent that. Jon Snow belonged to her and Arianne was going to find that out herself. Rhaenys was a dragon and dragons always get what they want.


	16. Chapter 16

**Robb**

Robb didn't want to get up. He doesn't have to get up. His hand was around his wife's body, and it was too warm. It was also too early to rise from his bed. Last night, he, Jon, Theon, and Domeric drank too much.  _Wait…did Jon stay behind?_ Robb was sure that he did. He was also sure that Jon may be sleeping his ass off in that lake.  _He will be ok. Broody can take care of himself._

He didn't have to get up.

Robb smiled to himself, eyes closed. Alys stirred in her sleep, mumbling. Alys turned again. She dropped her head on his chest and laid there. Robb didn't open his eyes, but he can tell that she was an amazing sight. He does not regret marrying her. He does regret marrying her without Jon being present. Even now, Robb lamented over the years missed with his brother.

Yes, Jon was still his brother. Robb and he spent too much time together to not call each other brothers. They sparred together. They ate together. They played together. The crown prince is Jon's brother by blood, but Robb is Jon's brother by time and sweat. Nothing can beat time.

But still, Robb felt sorry for Jon. His mother had died birthing him, and he has been lied to by a person who he thought was his father. He felt like an outcast. Jon felt like an outcast even by his own family because people thought he was a bastard. Jon is never going to be recognized as a prince. He is never going to have a mother or a father. He is not going to have brotherly love from his actual brother. And he is definitely not going to have sisterly love from his actual sister.

Robb frowned but kept his eyes closed. He was frowning because of the thought of the princess. To him, Jon wants more than the sisterly love, and the princess will happily give it to him. The princess has been giving Jon the bed eyes ever since they came to Harrenhall. When Rhaenys came to Jon's side to look at the sword, Robb almost thought that the princess would grab his cock in front of everyone and start stroking it. Robb has to give credit to Jon trying to stay firm, but Jon and the princess just flirted with the other in front of him.

" _ **I know you want to give it to me. You won't regret it."**_

Robb had taken a sharp breath then, and he took another sharp breath now. The princess couldn't be blunter in her suggestion and trying to be subtle about it at the same time. It was a masterpiece really. Robb wondered for a split second if the princess had taken a man to bed before. Rhaenys dresses like she was dornish, looks like a dornish, and may behave like one too.

 _It does not matter._  Robb was concerned for Jon. His brother does not look like he can fight forever and would succumb to the princess's affection. The princess did not know that Jon is her sibling, and she wouldn't know she would be sleeping with her brother if Jon finally gives in. When the tourney is done with, the two will never see the other again. Rhaenys will go back south, and Jon will go back north. Robb didn't know how the princess would feel about that, but he had a feeling that Jon is going to be hurt. Jon is a different man than he had been years ago and probably dismissed a hundred women after the business was done with. But Robb just has a  **feeling**  that this would be different.

 _Oh, Jon._  Robb felt so much sorrow for the prince.  _Can't Jon have some happiness in his life for once?_

If only Jon had the Stark name…

Robb's eyes shot open. His mouth was gaping. His eyebrows were raised. He didn't even know that he was sitting up. Robb was thinking too fast for him to be aware of his surroundings.

 _Why didn't I think of that before?_ Robb thought and laughed. Alys mumbled again, so Robb kissed her shoulder. His wife smiled before staying still.

Robb crossed his arms and thought hard. Giving Jon the Stark name would solve many, many, many complications. First, Jon would have a castle to rule. Second, it will be in the form of an apology. If Jon can't be a Targaryen, he can at least be a Stark. Robb's father owes him that much. Third, if the sexual tension can increase, Jon can ask for the princess's hand. Robb was almost sure that the sexual tension will reach its climax, but he was not sure if Jon would want to marry his sister. What Robb just thought was weird. Jon would probably lay with his sister but will probably find it troubling to marry her.

Robb chuckled.  _Now that I think about it, Jon is kind of weird._ Most of the time, Robb did not know what Jon was feeling or what he was thinking about. The man said that he was unpredictable last night and Robb believed him.

_He will be even more unpredictable when it comes to the princess._

Though, Robb's mind was still on Jon getting the Stark name. His Father will have no reason to refuse and might even be happy to do it. Robb knew that the warden will be overjoyed at the prospect of reconciling with Jon. Robb's mother will want Jon to have the name too. She has no reason to deny the process and would be happy for Jon to finally have something for a change. Jon  **needs**  something for what he has lost. Now, the question will be of marrying the princess. The king saying yes to the match is a fifty-fifty chance. Jon returned their house sword to them. He killed a Blackfyre and is not requesting anything in return. From thinking about, Robb liked Jon's chances. Would Jon want to marry his sister? Robb doesn't know. He will hold the plan to himself and watch Jon and the princess further before he makes any move. No matter if shit hit the storm Robb will always be there for Jon.

"You are thinking really hard."

Robb startled and threw the blankets on himself. He peeped over the blankets to see Jon and Arya laughing. Arya was on Jon's shoulders, smiling down at him. Smirking, Jon walked to his bedside.

"What are you doing here?" Robb asked. He was a bit annoyed. If the two wanted him to get up from this bed, they had another thing coming. He is Robb fucking Stark. He can lie in his bed for the whole day if he wanted to.

Jon looked at him, still having the smirk. "We want you to get up."

Robb frowned at them. "Who do you think you are to make me do so? I am the future lord of Winterfell."  _We are not going to say that you are the prince, because that would be unfair._

"We are making you get up by being your siblings," Arya said loudly. "Get your lazy butt up. How are you going to be the future warden if you can't get up from your own ass?"  _You will be surprised, little sister._

Robb looked to Jon, amused. "Is she learning those foul languages from you?"

Jon shook his head. "No, don't blame it on me. She is definitely learning that from you."

"I learned it from both of you!" Arya shouted, banging her fist on Jon's head. "Now shut up!"

"Don't be so loud." Robb looked to his side. Alys still didn't stir. Robb looked to them and said, "Fine, I will get up."

Jon smiled at him and said, "I knew you will see reason. Let's go Arya." He went out of the tent with Arya still on his shoulders.

Robb wanted to throw a pillow at them. He didn't want to get up. He groaned and pulled the blankets off.

He had to get up.

….

"So, why did I have to leave my wife's side?" Robb asked. The three of them were now inside the castle.

Arya made a face. "Robb, you always be around her!"

Robb snorted and said, "Alys is my wife. I have to be around her, little sister."

"Don't call me that," Arya snapped, "And it's not fun with you with her. It's aggravating. You will always be with her or with Theon and Domeric."

Robb stopped walking, and Jon and Arya stopped walking too.

"What are you going on about?" Robb asked out loud. He pointed to Jon and said, "Lately, he has been hanging around with a drunken dwarf and the dwarf's drunken friends."

"Drunken sellswords," Jon corrected with a small smile.

Robb stared at him. "Jon, as if that makes it better." The lilac eyed man shrugged.

He looked to the flustered Arya. "See what I mean, but you don't say anything to him."

Arya opened and closed her mouth like a dying fish out of water. The young girl smacked her head and scowled. "Brother, whatever you say."

"You two still didn't answer my question," Robb asked impatiently. "Don't tell me that you brought me out of my bed for fresh air."

"No," Jon answered, "But I think that was a good idea. You need more fresh air after all that time you have been between your wife's tits."  _You really want to start this, Jon?_

Arya busted out laughing. She bent over and gripped her knees so she wouldn't fall on her face. Jon stayed where he was, though he smirked at him. A few people stared at them but kept walking.  _Do you_ _think you have all the clever jokes? Ha, don't get me started on the princess. I have a lot of things to say about you and her, but I'm not going to do that. I am a nice man after all._

"Ok, Jon." Robb nodded and looked to Arya. "Where are we going,  **Arya**?" They begin walking.

"To the training yard," Arya answered happily. She almost looked like she was skipping. "Jon suggested it."

Robb glanced at Jon and said, "Are you bring her to the yard so she can hold a sword?"

"Yes."

"I'm agreeable to that," Robb said. "Fuck what the other lords have to say. Arya is from the north. She is a Stark, and she can hold a sword if she wants to."

"Hear, hear," Jon said, looking at Arya with pride.

Arya smiled at them and continued to walk with a spring in her step. After a few turns, they went through a door that led them to the yard. There were grunts and yells as people struck straw dummies. In one place, there was a ring of people who watched a spar being played out.

They walked into the yard. Robb looked at one of the racks and trying to reckon which sword fitted his sister the most.

"I still think I should have brought needle." He heard Arya say.

"That is a skinny and small sword. It is best that you tried a heavier sword," Jon said. "You want to be knight, don't you?"

Robb can imagine that Arya nodded.

"Then trust me," Jon said. "To be a good knight, you have to have experience with all weapons hand to hand. It would not help if you fought a person who wields a wepo-"

Robb tuned them out. His blue eyes scanned the swords before he chose one. He picked up the sword and turned around. He held out the sword to Arya and said, "Jon speaks truly, but you shouldn't listen to him, because he is not a knight himself."

Jon crossed his arms. "What are you trying to say? Are you saying that you are a knight?" They walked to a dummy.

"No," Robb responded. "I'm just saying that you are not a knight. It is that simple, brother."

Jon looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. The man looked to Arya and said, "Stick the dummy with the pointy end, sister."

Arya grinned at the dummy. "You don't have to tell me twice."

Robb and Jon watched her strike the dummy. They corrected her footwork if she got sloppy. They made a few pointers when she struck too high or struck too low. To Robb's pride, Arya only made a few minor mistakes. Other than that, Arya did well and he didn't have to say much to her.

"Aww, is that little northern boy trying to swing a sword?" A voice mocked. "Seeing him trying to do so is laughable."

Robb, Jon, and Arya turned around. The Sand Snakes looked at them confidently. In their poster, they were arrogant. In their eyes, there was disdain and contempt.  _What do they want?_

Robb stepped in front. He gave them a cold stare and said, "I'm afraid that you are mistaken. I see no boy. I see myself, my brother, and my sister."  _You better not be talking about my sister._

Nymeria laughed. She pointed at Arya and said, "That's a girl? There is no chance of her being a girl. She looks like one of the ugly boys from flea bottom in Kingslanding." Two women behind her laughed.  _How dare they?! And how dare they make that joke when it's not even funny?!_

Arya glared at them, waving her sword in their direction. "Watch your mouth! I am no boy. I will stick you with the pointy end!"

The Sand Snakes stared at her in shock. Tyene recovered and said, "You're from the north, little boy. You don't know how to swing. You will end up stabbing yourself."

"What does being in the north have to do with anything?" Robb said. He was getting irritated.

Obara looked at him as if he wasn't worth their time. "Being in the north has to do with everything. You northerners are traitors and cowards too. You people are also a bunch of savages." A crowd started to form. A few Northerners stepped forward and stared at the Sand Snakes in anger. A few Dornish people also stepped forward; they were glaring at the northerners and gripping their weapons.

"When the usurper was killed in combat, you all dropped your weapons like cowards," Nymeria snarled. She smirked and looked at Arya. "No wonder why she is so ugly."  _I've had enough._

"Let me stop you there," Robb said. "You call us cowards? We actually fought in the war and Dorne did nothing! All of you are hypocrites! When Baratheon died, what did you think we should do? My father was smart into dropping his weapon because he knew that it was the only way."

Robb stepped in front of Obara. He couldn't keep the scorn out of his face or his voice. "And talk about ugly, you have one particular case of ugliness right here." He pointed in her face.

The crowd laughed. Arya laughed like there was no tomorrow. Jon didn't laugh but smiled at the jest.

Robb let the emotion of victory on his face as he stepped back. He crossed his arms and looked at the Sand Snakes. His eyebrow was raised as he waited for what they will say. "I didn't want to say that, my ladies. You have insulted my sister and my homeland. And therefore, I had to respond back."

The Sand Snakes glared at him. If steam can blow out of someone's head, then Robb would've seen the steam coming out from them.

Obara spoke at last. "You northerners are just savages that can't swing a sword." A person in the crowd shouted.

Robb frowned. He pointed to Jon and said, "You think my brother can't swing a sword? Didn't he beat one of your people in a spar? And didn't my brother leave him incapable of speaking? And to this day I can still hear Darkstar mumbling." The Northerners laughed and raised their swords to Jon.

The Sand Snakes had no answer for that.

Nymeria looked to Jon and said, "He is from the east." Her face was conflicted as to if she realized it was not a proper statement.

"No, he is from the north!" The northern men cheered.

Tyene said, "Snow, why are you allowing this man to speak for you?"

Robb and Everyone else looked at Jon.

Jon's face was guarded as he looked to the Sand Snake. The man opened his mouth and said, "It is true, I did come from the east."

 _Jon, what?_ Robb was not expecting that. By the face expressions, everybody else was not expecting that either. Arya and Lord Umber were staring at Jon in absolute shock and anger. The Sand Snakes looked shocked but also pleased.

"I did come from the east," Jon continued, "But it does not matter where I come from. It does not matter if I came from the west, the east, or the south. I have the blood of house Stark running through my veins, and the north will always be home."  _That is my brother!_

Lord Umber roared. The man's roar was echoed by the men from the north. The people from different lands removed themselves out of the way of the screaming people.  _I have to say, we do scream a lot._

In spite of this, Jon looked like he was not done. The prince went to Robb's side and said, "My ladies, you have claimed that we northern folk do not know how to fight."

"You don't!" Obara growled. She was fingering her spear idly.

Jon's face was calm. "If you think so, why don't you spar with one of us? You three sound sure of yourself."

People conveyed their surprise by immediately talking.

"What are you thinking of?" Robb whispered to Jon.

Jon looked at him and said, "It's simple. They will fight one of our people. Look at them, they are confident."

"What are you implying?" Tyene asked. The bastard looked interested in spite of trying not to. Her sisters stared at Jon the same way.

Jon looked to the crowd, and his eyes were looking at something that Robb didn't see. Jon said, "Two women of the north will spar with the two of you."  _That is just crazy, brother. And I like it._

The Snake Snakes looked shocked before whispering to each other. After a while, Obara and Nymeria stepped forward while Tyene backed off.

Robb nodded. He turned his back on them to look at the many faces. "Which woman has the wish to defend the name of the north?"

"Come now, Brother." Jon pointed to the crowd. "You know which lady is which. The woman is, of course, Dacey Mormont of Bear Island!"

People parted as Dacey strode to the middle.  _Good choice._  The north men eyed the tall woman with respect. Arya looked at Dacey as if she wanted to be in her place. Robb knew that his sister admired the woman from Bear Island.

Robb looked at Dacey in the eye and said, "I know that you are capable in the yard, my lady. I saw you strike down one of Lord Karstark's son's myself." A few people chuckled. "I have no doubt that you will make the north proud."

Nymeria snorted. Obara smirked at the Mormont. Dacey stared at the Sand Snakes coldly and said, "It will be my utmost pleasure, my lord."

"Who is the next?" Robb called out. The people in the crowd stared at him with eagerness.  _This will get intense._ The North and Dorne did not like each other. The spar will mean much more to either side.

"It will be me, Lord Stark." A feminine voice said.

There was silence as Alys came to the yard. She was not wearing a dress but wore a tunic and brown breeches. Everyone was surprised, but they let his wife through. Alys grabbed a sword and stood there, meeting everyone's gaze.

"Oh, fuck." Jon came to his side, eyes wide as he stared at the woman.  _My thoughts and your thoughts are the same, brother._

Robb blinked at Alys. Even when she smiled at him, he blinked faster.

"I guess she is not boring after all," Arya remarked.

His sister's comment snapped Robb out of his astonished daze. He marched over to Alys and came to her side. Robb looked at her and whispered, "What are you doing?"

Alys gave him a stare. Her eyes held aggravation. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You're supposed to be in bed!" Robb retorted. He didn't mean to be away for long. He would eventually go back to her.

"Yet, you left me there all alone." Alys scowled at him. "Imagine my surprise when I didn't find you beside me but in the training yard arguing with the slimy snakes."

"I'm going to defend the name of the north." Alys glared at him. "You are not going to stop me from doing that, husband."

"This is too dangerous for you!" Robb countered. He looked to the side, and the Sand Snakes were eyeing his wife like a predator would look to a prey. He did not like how they were looking at her.

"You didn't say that to Dacey, did you?" Alys commented sharply.

"She is not my wife!" Robb roared as he cupped Alys's left cheek. He rubbed it softly and said in a soft tone, "I don't want to see you get hurt." The Sand Snakes did not look like they would hold back, no matter if it's a spar. Robb never saw his wife hold a sword  **once** , so he was worried. Alys was the love of his life.

Alys softened her eyes but still looked determined. "I'm going to spar with them, Robb." She kissed him on the lips. "I'm going to be fine."

Robb clenched his jaw and walked away from her. Nymeria narrowed her eyes and smirked at him. Robb glared at the bastard and stopped next to Jon. He stared hard as Dacey and Alys put on armor. Obara and Nymeria did not do the same; they just smirked at their opponents.

Domeric came out from the crowd and grabbed his arm, face worried. He said, "I think we should stop this, Robb."

"Tell that to them," Robb said gravely.

"This will cause more tension with us and Dorne!" Domeric said. "I know it will! Stop this now, Robb!"

Robb looked to the hardened faces of the north. He looked to the angry but excited faces of the Dornish.  _I can't do anything._ That thought hit him like a ray of light. Both sides wanted to see this fight happened. They would continue this even with his protest. The relationship between the North and Dorne is too bitter.

Robb glanced at his friend and said, "I'm sorry, Dom. I can't do anything."

Desperate, Domeric looked to Jon for help. Jon stared back but said nothing. The prince turned his eyes back to the center, arm wrapped around Arya's neck.

Robb saw Domeric sigh and look to the women. Robb's eyes stayed on Alys. His stomach was rolling over itself. His fist was formed so tight that his palms started to bleed.

To feel better, Robb look to Jon and asked, "Do you think we are going to win?" Having Jon reassure that everything will be ok will surely keep him calm.

"No."

The dread in his chest doubled over.

Domeric and Arya stared at Jon. Arya said, "What you said was ridiculous! Dacey is the best woman that I know who wields a sword!" She unhooked Jon's arm from her shoulder as if it stung her.

"Please explain, Jon," Domeric said softly.

"Yes, please talk, brother." Robb gritted his teeth.

Jon's answer had no delay. "Yes, Arya, Dacey is the best woman you've seen wield a sword. I can say the same too. Though, that's in the north. This is the south, little sister. The Dornish will not be fighting with honor like what I know Dacey will do." Jon's lilac eyes never strayed from the center. "Unknown to you, the Sand Snakes may have been learning from the Red Viper. And that man does not play fair, so his daughters will take after him."

"Now, let's look to the matter of Alys." Jon glanced at him, dark curls waving in front of his face. "I don't know anything about her and that's not exactly good, Robb. You should've taken her out of this."

"I tried to explain to her, but she wouldn't listen." Robb looked at Alys again. "And maybe she will do fine," He said, feeling the need to defend his wife. It was the only thing he can do now.

"Yes, she is going to do fine." Arya scowled at Jon. "After Dacey and Alys win I want you to go over there and kiss their feet for having doubting them."

Jon just shook his head and looked to the woman, crossing his arms.

"And now it starts," Domeric said. Dacey and Alys were wearing their armor and holding their swords in a stance. Obara and Nymeria held their spears with ease, eyeing the other women cockily. They started to circle each other.

 _Please don't get hurt, Alys._ Robb thought. He will be crushed if his wife gets harmed. He may also turn wrathful; he loved his wife that much.

His heart almost jumped out of his chest as Alys swung the first blow of the spar. Obara almost looked taken back as she spun her body around to dodge. Dacey roared like a bear and lunged at Nymeria. The crowd cheered as they clashed.

Robb's eyes were tracking the spar like a hungry wolf. His eyes widened every time Obara would stick her spear at his wife. Alys kept her eyes on the long spear though. She would swing a couple of blows before retreating. Watching his wife, Robb smiled.  _She is actually doing well!_

Obara had little to no armor, so she whirled her spear in a spiral. The spear was moving so quickly in the air that Robb had to squint his eyes because it made him dizzy. Alys looked disorientated by this and stumbled. Obara yelled and jumped in the air; the blunt of her spear aiming at Alys's head. Alys rolled to the right. Obara struck nothing but air. Alys grabbed Obara by the braid of her hair and kicked her leg under her. The Sand Snake yelled and fell on her back, and she lost her hold on the spear. Taking the advantage, Alys pinned her down and brought her sword to her throat.  _That's my wife!_

"Yield, you bitter snake!" Alys ordered.

Obara glared at her but said, "I yield," She said it with anger. She gashed her teeth and spit flew out. The dornish people in the crowd shouted in anger.

Robb pumped a fist in the air as the north men shouted their approval. Feeling happy, he glanced at Jon.  _I bet that you are eating your words now, brother._ Jon met his gaze and looked away, saying nothing.

Arya punched Jon's arm. "See, I told you!"

"The spar isn't over yet, Arya." Jon kept his eyes on the spar.

"I think it is," Domeric said, rubbing his jaw. "It's two on one now."

"There is no two on one," Jon replied.

"What?" Robb frowned.

Jon inclined his head to the center. Robb looked back and almost groaned. Instead of teaming with Dacey, Alys stayed out of it. She instead watched as Dacey and Nymeria traded blows.

"Fighting with honor," Jon said. It didn't sound like he was angry or criticizing. The man just stated something.

"We are going to pull out of this, brother," Robb said. Jon didn't respond.

Robb turned back to the spar because of a scream. Dacey held her neck, backing away and growling.

"The snake bit her!"

"She has no honor!"

"The snake has venom!"

"What the fuck is this?!"

"The bear is bleeding!"

"This is bloody awesome!"

Robb stared in shock and a bit of anger too as Nymeria smacked Dacey upside the head with her spear. The Mormont did not get up after she fell.  _This bitch really bit her. Jon is right. They have no honor._

"I'll get her," Domeric said. He, with a few other angry north men, grabbed Dacey and propped her against a wall. They began to take her armor off as Dacey started to open her eyes.

Robb's fear has grown as Alys and Nymeria circled each other. Stunned, he watched as Alys moved on the offensive. His wife was aggressive in her approach. Alys slashed upwards and downwards to keep Nymeria off balanced. Robb and Arya cheered as Nymeria crumbled to the ground. The northerners were yelling and shouting as Alys walked to her.  _She is going to fucking win!_

All of Robb's joy, all of his yells, all of his hopes, died as Nymeria kicked Alys in the face. The Sand Snake got to her feet and bashed Alys's face with the length of her spear. Dazed, Alys blinked and tripped to the ground. Nymeria jumped on top of her and punched her across the face. The bastard turned her body over and grabbed her arm, pulling it back.

Alys screamed. At this moment, the Dornish was now cheering and the northerners were as silent as a tomb.

"Do you yield?" Nymeria asked mockingly. She twisted her arm further.

Alys nodded, tears flowing down her face. However, Nymeria grabbed her by the hair with her other hand and shoved her head in the ground.

"I can't hear you!" Nymeria hissed. She looked ready to rip her arm off from her socket. The warriors of the north grew furious; a couple of them tried to interfere, but the Dornishmen stopped them. The opposing sides began to curse and tussle. Alys's brothers were pushing back the snakes with the strength that Robb never saw before.

"I yield!" Alys cried.

Nymeria smirked and let go of her arm.  _You bitch!_ The bastard joined her sisters and clapped hands, laughing.

Robb quickly walked to Alys and helped her stand to her feet, arms holding her close. He touched her face with his finger and turned her so he can appropriately see the damage. There was a dark bruise on her forehead, and a cut on her lip. Fresh Blood seeped from her nose. Alys didn't look at him but glared in the distance behind him.

Her brothers then came, and Harrion was the first person to ask, "Are you ok, sister?" The three brothers camped around their sister, looking furious and concerned. Arya came running too. Jon and Domeric came at a slower gait. In the crowd, the Dornishmen and the Northmen still pushed and punched.

Alys didn't meet anyone's eyes. and her eyes pointed at the ground. "I am fine and don't worry about me."

"You are not ok," Jon said. "Your nose is bleeding."

"Here, let me look after you." Robb started to pull Alys along, but his wife dug her feet into the ground and glared at him.

"I said that I am  **fine**!" Alys snapped, glaring at the celebrating Sand Snakes. His wife undid her armor and then left the yard. Harrion, Torrhen, and Harald walked after their sister.

The Sand Snakes were done with their celebration. Tyene laughed and said, "We were right after all. The northern dogs are not worth a damned thing except for Snow!"

Her comment initiated a new wave of anger for the Northmen. Robb saw Lord Umber lift up a man above his head, roared, and threw him bodily across the yard. People from different regions stayed silent and watched the brawl. Gerold, a man of house Tyrell, was amongst the men from the reach.

Domeric looked at him and shouted, "Robb, stop this! Tell your men to stand down! You are the son of Eddard Stark. They will listen to you!"

_Domeric is right. Blood will be shed if I don't do anything._

Robb squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, steeled his eyes, and shouted, "The men from the north, I, Robb Stark, order you to stand down at once!" His words were delivered perfectly, almost goldenly. His words were carried by the wind despite the loud grunts. Robb was sure that everyone heard him, but the fighting did not stop. Dacey and Lord Umber were the only ones to stop themselves.

 _This is turning bad._ Lyanna Stark ran off with Rhaegar, and Dorne did not like this even when it happened years ago. Dorne hated the north because of the Stark girl. The rebellion was still too fresh in everybody's mind.

"Stop this fighting, you fools!"

Viserys came to the yard with Tommen at his side. The Targaryen had fire in his purple eyes, and his hands were on the hilt of his sword.

There was power in his voice, and the fighting ceased to nothing. Bloodied and winded Northmen and Dornishmen stared at the angry man. Everyone was tense as Viserys eyed them with a hard gaze.

Viserys had a scowl on his face as he said, "The prince will be informed of this! Everyone has my word of that." The man turned to leave.

"The bloody Dornish started this!" Arya shouted.

"Arya, stay quite quiet," Robb hissed.

But this grabbed Viserys attention. The Targaryen and his son strode to them and stopped a foot away. Everybody watched them in curiosity.

Viserys stared at them for a moment. The Targaryen looked to Jon and asked, "Snow, explain to me what happened." Tommen eyed them shyly from his father's side.

 _He respects him._  Robb realized. He sees how Viserys looked at Jon. There was nothing but high regard in the man's eyes. It seemed that Jon returning the sword to them had more of an impact than he thought.

"My brother and I were just training our sister by ourselves," Jon said calmly. His eyes flickered to the Sand Snakes. "Then those three showed up. They came and insulted us, not just my sister, but the whole north in general. And we agreed to do a spar among us because they thought us Northmen were nothing but dogs. During the spar, one of our own tried to yield but one of them shoved her head to the ground." There was a little anger to be heard in his voice. A couple of Dornishmen protested.

Viserys narrowed his eyes and turned on the Sand Snakes. "Is this true?"

Tyene smirked and said, "They say nothing but lies. They are just angered that we beat them." Her sisters nodded beside her. The northerners glared at them.

"Liar!" Arya screamed. She spun her head around to find a face. She looked at Gerold and pointed at him. "He is a lord and saw everything!"

"Tell me of this matter, my lord," Viserys asked Gerold.

Gerold frowned, his eyes jumping between the people of the north and the people of Dorne carefully. In the end, he opened his mouth. "Everything was a blur. I did not see what had transpired," He said evenly.  _Are you serious?_

Then what he had said made sense. If Gerold said that the Sand Snakes were the fault of this, then it will draw the ire of Dorne. If Gerold claimed that the north is responsible, then the Northmen will be angered. Robb knew that the man was trying to be natural. He didn't like liars, but he saw how smart Gerold was. Robb would do the same for his people. But he was still angry.

"I'm sorry, Snow," Viserys said and looked to Jon, "But I have no proof of what you say. I don't know who is telling the truth." The air was tense. Everybody knew what the truth is. They knew who is lying and who isn't. They knew the crime of lying to a prince but not a word was said.

"I understand fully," Jon said it unemotionally, though Robb saw that his eyes were cold.

"I have word from the prince," Viserys continued. "He sends you an invitation to sit at the high table for every feast until the king arrives."

_I think Jon is going to accept it._

The fire that was in Jon's eyes had cooled somewhat. "Tell the prince that he has my thanks. I will be there."

Robb understood right away, but he couldn't stop the stab of the pain of his heart.  _Jon wants to talk with his brother._ He is going to stop feeling selfish, however. Jon is only going to have a limited amount to interact with the royal family, while Robb and he is going to have forever.

Viserys nodded his head but stayed where he was. "The prince has also a guest room for you. Bring any people you wish to have a room as well."  _Oh, no…_

Jon nodded. "I accept that as well."

 _You're making a bad mistake, brother._ Robb knew that Jon was accepting the proposals without really thinking about it. The second prince didn't fully comprehend that the princess slept in the castle too. Warning bells were ringing loudly in Robb's ears. The princess will probably do something.

 _I have to remember the plan._  Robb thought, calming down. All he had to do was watch Jon and the princess and see what comes out of it.  _Maybe I should get a room too._

"It's good that you agreed." Viserys nodded one final time before leaving. Tommen waved at them with a small smile before following his father.

The Dornish and the Northmen sent one scathing look at each other before walking off. The Sand Snakes looked smugly at him and Jon. The three walked off laughing. Arya snarled at them with anger.

The training yard was nearly empty except for them and the men from the reach. Robb's eyes narrowed at Gerold who was putting his sword back in the rack.  _He is a fucking liar._ Robb wanted justice but it was thwarted by this man.

Jon called out, "Ser Gerold!"

Gerold paused. His men formed a wall in front of them, eyeing Jon with suspicion and fear. Gerold turned around and said, "Yes, Snow?"

Jon eyed the tall man before he spoke, "I look forward to seeing you in the melee. I will search for you in the field myself." There was a predatory gleam in his lilac eyes. "It is best to be ready because I am coming for you." The reach men watched Jon in silence.

Robb shivered. He saw that Arya shifted her feet uneasily.

Gerold's jaw twitched, and he nodded stiffly. Robb almost thought that the man looked as if he was accepting his fate.  _He should feel that way. If Jon doesn't reach him first, then I will._ Robb thought viciously. One way or another, he is going to get revenge.

Robb sighed and looked to Arya. "I think the training session is over."

The young girl nodded with no complaint. She placed the sword where she found it and said, "I'm going to go find Bran and Rickon. I'll see you two some other time."

Robb and Jon stared at the girls back until she was there no more. When Gerold left, Robb and Jon were now alone in the yard.

Deep in his bones, exhaustion took place. Robb groaned and rubbed his tired eyelids.  _Today has been a disaster in its finest form._  He had a couple of bastards insult his sister and his homeland. And he watched his wife get her ass handed to her with his own eyes. He wanted to scream until he couldn't anymore.

He looked to Jon, a thin-lipped smile on his face. "Have you enjoyed yourself? I surely did, brother."

"Do you want to see my dragon?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want to see Cannibal?" Jon asked again. His emotions were concealed by the crafted mask of his face.

Robb struggled to keep the surprise off his face. He looked around them, eyes searching for any sound that may come. Again he looked to Jon. "Why did you ask me that in this yard? Someone might have heard you."

"I can tell if someone is near if I can concentrate."  _What? Are you going mad, brother?_  He was now wondering if Jon had something going on in his head.  _You cannot just sense someone._

"Do you want to see him?" Jon asked, a bit of irritation in his deep but soft voice.

Anticipation arouses in his chest. Seeing the dragon can perhaps ease his anger at what happened to his wife. Robb said, "Yes."  _I'm about to see a fucking dragon. What kind of world are we living in?_

**Jon**

"The bastard daughters of the Red Viper have done this?" Tyrion asked. Sandor and Bronn were outside of the tent so their conversation cannot be heard. Jon and Robb were seated across from the dwarf.

"Yes, they have fucking done it!" Robb shouted in a wave of anger that Jon can clearly see that he was holding in. Jon had seen Robb with a dark expression ever since the spar with the Sand Snakes. One of the reasons why he had to ask if Robb wanted to see the dragon was too divert his cousin's attention away from the spar.

Jon and Tyrion watched Robb breathe an air of frustration. The Stark tried to visibly calm down, rubbing the back of his head.

Having calmed down, Robb looked back at Tyrion. "I'm sorry that I have cursed, my lord." His face was still pissed.

"Curse all you like," Tyrion responded with a grin. "There is no restraint for languages if you are drinking or talking with me and my guards."

"You can insult Tyrion all you want," Jon said. "He won't mind. Hell, he will even enjoy what things you can say about him."

"Yes, that is what I take pleasure from the most," Tyrion commented. "It's humorous of what people think of me, seeing me as a dwarf."

Tyrion opened his mouth again to say, "Why are you here? Or do you want to drink with me again along with your cousin, Jon?"

"No, not today," Jon responded. If he wanted to drink with Tyrion again, it would be sometime later. "We are about to ride to visit Cannibal. Do you want to go with us?"

Tyrion glanced at Robb and asked, "You've told him of your parentage?"

"Yes, he knows everything."

"How do you feel about that?" Tyrion observed Robb with intense inquisitiveness. "How do you feel about Jon not being your actual brother but as a cousin?"

Jon looked at Robb too.

Robb roamed his eyes over his face. "It means little to me of what his parents or what he is. Jon is always going to be my brother to the end of time."

Jon smiled and Robb did too.

"That's very heartwarming," Tyrion remarked and grinned. "Though I wonder what Jon is going to do after this tourney is done with."

"I'm going to do what I should have done instead of leaving for Essos," Jon said. "I'm going to go back north and stay with the Starks." For a brief moment, his mind turned to Rhaenys.  _Stop that. I'm not going to see her again after this tourney._  It was sad to think like that, but it was how life works. You don't always get what you want.

"If that is what you desire, I'm not going to stop you," Tyrion said.

"It's not what I desire, it's what I have to do," Jon responded. "Now do you want to come with us or not?" He wanted to put an end to this dangerous talk now. If he didn't, the pain his chest will maul him, and he is not going to admit defeat by anything. He is going to do what he has to.

Robb stayed silent.

There was an odd look that flickered in Tyrion's eyes. The dwarf nodded and got to his feet. Tyrion grabbed his wineskin and asked, "Yes, I will come. Tell me this, why are you doing this now?"

"I have no sword and I have no armor. I want to get the stuff that I need now," Jon answered. "I also want to see how Cannibal fares without the warg."

"You can warg?!" Robb yelled. "What the hell are we talking about?!" His eyes looked like it was about to pop.

_I keep overlooking what I should tell him. Warging is like second nature to me, so I didn't think of telling him._

"I'll explain when we get our horses," Jon replied.

"Something is going to tell me this is going to be strange," Robb said.

"It's not going to be as strange as you think it is."

"Yes it will," Tyrion commented. "It may be normal to you, but others might find the ability as foreign."

"We will see then." Jon walked out of the tent. Robb came to his side as Tyrion talked to Sandor and Bronn.

"You are paying me for no reason then," Bronn stated. "Why am I getting all this gold if I'm not protecting you?"

"You don't want us to go with you?" Sandor growled. "Are you really trying to fucking replace me with Snow?"

Tyrion raised his arms in a form of trying to cool their ire. "My friends please calm down. This is nothing related to any business of any kind. We are on a trip that is personal. I cannot say what we are doing."

"Of course you are making excuses of personal matters," Bronn said sarcastically. "You know what? Fuck it. I'm being paid to do nothing. I'm the luckiest man in the world."

Tyrion smiled, gesturing his hands. "See? You don't have to be angry, because why be angry if you are getting everything that you want with no blood to be spilled?"

"Killing is the best thing there is," Sandor said gruffly.

"You are the only one who feels that way," Jon responded.

"Yes," Bronn agreed. "Being between a woman's legs is the best thing there is."

A pictured popped from behind his eyes. It came out from the edges of his mind. It was quick and startling. He was standing there, watching as Rhaenys undressed.

Jon blinked rapidly to scatter the image.  _I don't need to be thinking of that_ _ **ever**_ again _._  His brain was almost blank because of the image.

"Yes, it is," He said with a whisper.

Robb and Tyrion gave him a look.

….

The leaves were rustling, and the little birds were chirping. The small birds hung on the tree branches and stared at them. Deer's eyed them with an animal type of curiosity before decamping from the grassy path. The grass on the ground crunched as Jon, Robb, and Tyrion rode their horses.

As he and Tyrion exchanged pleasant talk, Robb stared ahead, blue eyes apprehensive. Jon grabbed the wineskin from Tyrion and passed it to Robb.

The Stark seized the feathery container and took a swig. Robb dried his lips and gave the wineskin back to him. Jon accepted it and swallowed some of the drink too.

"You are nervous, Stark," Tyrion said after the drink was passed to him.

"You state the obvious every fucking time, Tyrion," Jon commented.

"What of it? Do you have a problem?

"You stating the obvious is what we don't want nor is it obligatory."

Robb said, "We are going to see a living breathing dragon. I am literally shitting my brains out." He chuckled nervously.

_I have to tell him some things about Cannibal._

Jon turned in his saddle to glance at the Stark. "Tyrion knows what I'm about to say but you don't. Cannibal is a monster. He is nothing like a Direwolf. My dragon is a beast that will not bother you if you don't bother it. But if he thinks that you too close, then game over; you will die a horrible death. Make sure that you don't be too near him."

"I think you've made me more nervous, brother." Robb's face was pale, even paler than what was customary for a man from the north.

"That's good. It means that you are not stupid."

"How much longer do we have to ride?" Tyrion inquired.

"We don't have to go on for much longer," Jon answered. He can feel the sweet sensation of tingling in the back of his head.

_Did Robb just gulp?_

When they hitched their horses, the sun was dying out. The sky was a dark blue and a pink hue. The puffy clouds were parted in many shapes.

Jon's ears picked up the sound of deep rumbling.

They stopped in front of green bushes and leaves, and the rumbling was louder from the other side. Squirrels and birds ran and flew past them.

Jon looked to Robb and Tyrion. "This should be a good spot for you to watch. I should be able to hear you if you shout loud enough."

"Move out the way," Robb hissed. "I can't see." The Stark pushed him.

Jon frowned and moved past the bushes.

In the clearing, with tall trees and rocks scattered about, was Cannibal. The large dragon was not awake to address him. Around the black creature were blackened bones from animals that he probably burned to consume. Jon can hear Robb gasp.  _Yes, brother, Cannibal is a fearsome sight._

Jon's eyes watered at the smell, but he walked to the dragon. As Jon moved about, Cannibal sneezed in his sleep. What the dragon did was not malicious, but Jon was pushed off his feet, and he collided with the ground.

"Jon!" Robb shouted, "Are you hurt?!" A couple of birds flew in the air when the Stark yelled.

"I'm fine!" Jon shouted back, patting his hurt back. "Stay where you are!"

He got back to his feet. He stepped over a few more dirty bones before touching the dragon's warm snout. Cannibal's eyelids snapped open.

"Hello, Cannibal." Jon's hand moved around the dragon's snout.

Cannibal growled, and his green eyes were angry.

 _He feels like I have abandoned him_. Jon realized. The dragon was furious because he had been commanding it away from him constantly.

Jon smiled sheepishly and said, "I'm sorry, boy. But I had to do all of that. Nobody can know that I am the rider."

Cannibal puffed out hot air through his nose. Jon's hair flew back behind his ears, and he chuckled.

"I know. I know. You are angry, I get it. But now I can visit you every four days now. Would that make you happy?"

Cannibal raised his head and roared his approval.

At the end of it, Jon couldn't hear anything. His ears were screeching like a dying kraken.

"That was loud! Shit!" Robb shouted. "That dragon can roar!"

Jon blinked and smiled at Cannibal. "I missed you too."

He grabbed one of the dragon's scales and propelled himself up. He sat on his saddle, staring at the bags that were still tied on Cannibal's back.  _Where do I begin?_

There so many bags but he had to choose one to look into first. Jon opted to grab one the far left. Before he looked in it, he shouted, "Do you want a sword, Robb?!"

There was a drawn-out pause. And then Robb shouted, "I would like to have one!" Jon can hear how eager he was.

He pulled out one Valyrian sword, nodded, and placed it back into the bag. He did this for hours. He examined sword after sword, ax after ax, spear after spear and armor after armor.

The weapon wasn't the problem. He chose a double-headed battle ax. The armor was what he was struggling for. He looked through the bags thoroughly. The best set he found was in one of the last bags. The armor was made from silver dragon scales. The gauntlets and greaves were made from blackened steel. And the fine leather was clear that these pieces were once part of a set, but the breastplate had been lost to the ruin of time. The steel was darker in hue akin to cooled silver. The gauntlets and the boots bore a golden center embossed with an intricate symbol resembling a rising dragon. The silver helmet was elaborately decorated etched with a laurel design to symbolize the victory of some long forgotten general; two spikes rose to resemble the laurel crown.

"It is your lucky day," Jon said, putting the armor set in a bag. "I'll put you in good use." He tied the bag into a knot and did the same to another.

When the bags dropped to the ground, Jon climbed down to the solid surface. His legs jarred as he stepped on a bone. He cursed and tapped his foot to get rid of the pain.

"Are you done yet?!" Tyrion shouted.

"I am done!" Jon shouted back. "I have everything that I needed!"

Having this armor will send people into shock. He was sure of this. He was the best and had to look like the best.  _I know I am being cocky, but I have done things that no one did before._

He looked in Cannibal's eyes, the connection between them vibrating with energy from the warg. He sent all of his reassurance to the dragon mentally. It was full of promises that he will be back again.

"I'll be sure to meet with you again." Jon patted Cannibal. The dragon responded to this by bumping his face against Jon's body.

Jon laughed. He missed riding his dragon. Cannibal must be feeling the same too. He, Cannibal, and Ghost, were the trio that people feared most in this world.

For a second, only a second, he thought about what if Euron was successful in bringing Cannibal under his control.  _My family, my friends, and all of Westeros would have been burned._

Jon's eyes darkened at the thought of the mad Greyjoy. The pirate captured him, mocked him, tortured him, and scarred him. Euron has been dead for a long time, but Jon still wanted to kill him.

"Stay good, Cannibal," Jon said in farewell.

He turned around and walked away, back to Robb and Tyrion. The two stepped back as Jon pushed the bushes and leaves away.

"That was very quick like you said," Tyrion deadpanned. "What did you get?"

"A weapon for me and Robb," Jon replied. "I also got one for Sandor and Bronn. I don't trust what you say about getting them one." Tyrion gave him a slight glare.

"Robb, take this." Jon reached into one of the bags and pulled out a long sword. As he was giving it to the Stark, he noticed that Robb was still looking where Cannibal was. The man did not move, even when the Valyrian sword was in his limp hands.

"It was spectacular, wasn't it?" Jon asked with a small grin.

"You are stating the obvious," Tyrion said.

"Tyrion, be quiet."

The three unhitched their horses and rode out. Robb was now at ease and talked much more. Robb and Tyrion even bantered. The ride was peaceful before Ghost came charging out of the bushes. The white wolf's ruby eyes were shining from the sun.

They stopped their horses from continuing. Jon went off the horse and stopped in front of the Direwolf. "What's wrong with you?" Jon asked.

Ghost's eyes were garnet and more intelligent than some men. Those red eyes were alert. And Ghosts ears were raised. The Direwolf turned around and barked at the trees in front.  _Here we go again._

"Shit," Jon and Tyrion cursed at the same time.  _Who is it this time?_

"What's going on? Why is Ghost barking?" Robb asked, confused but alarmed for anything.

"We have company," Tyrion said darkly.

Robb and Tyrion climbed off their horses. Jon rummaged through one of the bags and threw a sword to Tyrion. The dwarf was sure-handed and caught the weapon with ease.

The three of them stepped to the side of each other, staring into the bushes with unease. Ghost stopped barking but growled viciously.

Jon held the double-headed ax with both hands. Already he can see the scarlet blood that will be on the weapon.

A man came through the bushes. More started to appear as well. They were all armored and had swords. Jon clenched his jaw as he counted how many there were.

There were six men.

"What do you want?" Robb asked seriously.

"Let me handle this," Tyrion said.

"I don't think you can negotiate with them," Jon whispered. "They've come for me." It's been some time since someone has gone after him, but he was always all ready for it. He kind of felt welcomed by that. This is what he was used to; him, facing the uncomfortable odds.

"They are stupid if they think they would get you." Robb scowled. Ghost growled. Tyrion grimaced.

"I have to at least try." Tyrion walked in front of them, smiling wide at the armored men. "Hello there!"

None of them replied. They all stared at the small man.

Tyrion sighed and said, "Yes, they cannot be negotiated with."

"You two don't have to die today," One of the men said, pointed to Robb and Tyrion. "All you fuckers have to do is move away. Snow is the one we want, not you."

"You are not getting anything," Robb said, face hard.

"If you want me," Jon said, "Then come and get me." He twirled his ax. "Not a single one of you is going to make it out of this alive." Ghost growled louder, looking ready to pounce. The two opposite sides had a staring showdown.

"Capture him and kill the spares," The same man ordered. "Make the dwarf shorter by cutting off his head."

At once, three men charged at them with their swords raised. Jon dispatched one of them with a quick hit with his ax. Robb clashed swords with another. The Valyrian sword in his hands was suddenly in the man's throat. Robb growled and pulled the sword out. The third man swung at Tyrion. The dwarf dropped to his knees and rolled. Jon ended this by stabbing the man in the back.

Three men were dead already.

He pushed the body to the ground and stared at the last three. All of them looked shocked. The man that gave the order to attack was speechless.

"You know, it would've been smart if all you charged at once," Robb remarked dryly. "I think it's too late to think about that though."

The man on the right screamed and ran to them. He didn't get close to them. Ghost slammed into the man's side and ripped out his tongue as the man wailed. The man went silent as Ghost removed a part of his face off. The wolf looked up, staring right at the two standing with his teeth bared.

"And you shouldn't have picked a fight with a Direwolf," Tyrion scolded.

One of the men tried to run away. Jon cocked his hand back and threw his ax with all of his might. The ax traveled in the air and hit the man in the neck. The steel was so sharp that the ax actually didn't stop at the first contact of flesh. The man's bloody head flopped to the ground.

The final man kneeled, eyes pointed to the ground. He didn't say anything as if he knew his struggle would grant him nothing.

_He is proud. I respect that._

Jon knelt on the ground whilst staring at the man. "Are you not afraid of death?"

"I'm very afraid," The man answered calmly, "But I know that it will be better if I didn't die weeping. What's the point of crying if you are about to kill me?"

"How do you know I was here?"

The man laughed. "A friend from the tourney told us. He was very happy telling where you went."

"Who is this person?"

"So you can kill him too?" The man shook his head. "I'm accepting my death but I'll kill you if I had the chance." Jon sighed.

"Thank you for your honesty." Jon looked to Tyrion, right hand open.

Tyrion handed his sword to him without a word. Robb looked on grimly.

Before the man could even blink, Jon plunged the sword in his abdomen. The man croaked and fell to the ground. Soon, there was a puddle of blood on the grass.

Not showing any respect, Jon cleaned the sword on the dead body. He turned around and gave the sword back to Tyrion.

"Was this your first time taking a life?" Jon asked Robb.

"No. I had to execute a couple of deserters from the nights watch on my father's command." Robb's face was still grim. "He says that I had to get used to the sight of blood. A green boy is not what the north needs." Robb narrowed his eyes at something.

"Jon, watch out!" Tyrion shouted, and his eyes were wide.

Jon turned around, but he was too late. An arrow pierced his side. He tried to evade but another arrow hit his leg. He yelled as his shoulder was hit too. With pain, Jon fell to his knees and dropped on his side.

There were shouts, and he heard Ghost snarl at someone.

Jon blocked his tears as the pain took a tour through his body. Everything hurt. He couldn't move. His limbs wouldn't respond to him. His whole body felt like it was dead.

Green flashed in his vision. The trees broke in half and burned as the green fire was sprayed on the forest. People screamed. Jon wasn't sure if he was the only one feeling the world shake as Cannibal crashed to the ground. The black dragon roared and shot more flames at the trees. Dark smoke cut through the sky like an ugly, black gash.

"Brother!" Jon heard Robb call above the turmoil.

He was turned on his back. The Stark looked at him, eyes holding terror. "Get him to calm down! He is about to burn everything!"

There were another booming crash and more screams.

"I...I...I can't." He couldn't really form the words. His chest was hurting, and his tears misted up his eyes. The pain was very real. The arrows burned against his skin. And his head was woozy. The dying sounds still persisted. It was clear that there were more men sent after him and every single one of them is now roasting.

"Yes, you can! Please, Jon!" The desperation was very clear in Robb's voice.

Jon closed his eyes. It was hard trying to reach out to Cannibal because of the loud sounds. It was even worse when the dragon cried. Jon felt his mind sharpen when Robb's hand touched his arm. It boosted his resolve.

 _Stop…_ Jon still felt weak and was sure that what he thought was perhaps a whisper in Cannibal's head. He was proven to be right as the onyx-colored dragon continued to breathe fire at everything.

 _Stop!_ His command was louder. He knew that Cannibal was aware of the message, but the dragon ignored him. The black smoke continued to grow larger. Maybe all the men had died already, but Cannibal wanted to breathe fire because he wanted to. The flames began to spread. The forest was now a ring of green flame.

 _Cannibal, STOP!_ Jon thought about it so hard that his head began to split from the strain.

There were a pause and silence. All was quiet aside from the sizzles of the green fires. Ash fell on Jon's face; he can feel its softness.

Jon tried to relax but the arrows in his body prevented him from doing that.

"You've done it, brother." Robb breathed a shaky breath. "It's very hot in here." Another tree fell, burning from the green fire.

Jon groaned in agreement. Sweat rolled down on his forehead. And the pain was getting worse by the minute.

Tyrion hurried to their side. Ghost padded to Jon's side and whined, licking his face. The Direwolf curled to himself, eyes on him.

"Stay here," Tyrion said in a worried tone, "I'll get help." The dwarf passed the flames and ran on the grassy path.

Robb grabbed his hand tightly and said, "You are going to make it through this, brother."

"I know I am." Jon tried to smirk at the Stark, but he knew it looked like a grimace. "Jon Snow is hard to kill." Blackness started to appear on the edge of his vision.

"Stop jesting," Robb admonished. "Save your breath." Nothing was said after that.

Robb and Ghost then jumped back as Cannibal crawled towards them. The dragon's growl made the two move further back. Cannibal's huge wing covering him was the last thing Jon saw.

….

A soft hand rubbing his own was the cause of his awakening.

Jon did his utmost to open his eyelids. When he did, everything was shaky and dark. He almost panicked but then realized that it was probably the hour of the wolf. He looked down to see he was bare-chested with bandages. It was hard to see but he still saw it. He was on his bed, in his tent.

The shape of the person in front of him, sitting on his bed, was blurry. The shakiness soon departed, and he was able to see the person. The mysterious man or woman wore a cloak, with its hood pulled over the head.

"Who are you?" Jon asked weakly. Ghost was in the corner, watching them. Jon was surprised that the Direwolf wasn't attacking the person.  _Maybe he sensed that the person means no harm._

The person stopped rubbing his hand and pulled back the hood.

"We meet again, Rhaenys," Jon said naturally, but his heart started beating faster. The beating increased as the princess inched closer, rubbing his hand again.  _How is she making me feel this way?_

Jon frowned at the princess's silence. It was too dark for him to see her face expression and that made him more uneasy.

"Are you there, princess?" Jon called out. He even called her princess so he can get a response. He knew that she didn't like it when he does it.

Rhaenys shifted but didn't answer. The silence was heavy.

"Are you ok, Rhaenys?" He was now concerned for his sister. "Did I do something to anger you?"  _What did I do this time? Is she mad that I broke our kiss? But didn't she say that she was fine about that?_

The only thing that Jon heard from Rhaenys was her steady breathing.

"What can I do to please you?" Jon asked. "I don't want you to be angry with me."

Rhaenys stayed quiet, but she still rubbed his hand.

Jon wanted to say more but lay on his pillow, not saying anything.

He hated silence ever since being held captive by Euron. Even though he was a quiet man by nature, he always surrounded himself with people that were more talkative. Rhaenys was more talkative than him. Jon itched for her to respond but was respectful to not speak. He could have told her to leave but he didn't. He wanted her to stay.

The silence was dragged on for an hour; Jon had counted it in his head.

"Jon, are you ok?" Rhaenys said at last.

He was startled by her voice but said, "I don't know. I think I am." His body was still hurt from the arrows. He would get over it though. He always does.

"I wanted to see you after I heard you got hurt," Rhaenys commented. "Lord Tyrion rode on the back of your Direwolf to get to the castle."

Jon grinned a little. "I wished I could've seen that." He felt proud.

Even when he couldn't see, Jon can tell that Rhaenys did not smile.

"Yes, when he rode on your Direwolf," There was something in the princess's voice. "You were then found underneath the wing of the wild dragon, Cannibal."

Jon's breath left him. He was thankful that it was dark so that Rhaenys couldn't see his face and that he couldn't see hers.

"My brother sent men to help you," Rhaenys said, voice utterly emotionless, "And those men encountered the dragon. They couldn't get to you because the dragon wouldn't allow it. After the men managed to get you, Robb Stark told us everything that we wanted to know at the hall."

"You're the rider," Rhaenys declared, voice sharp. She squeezed his hand with more strength. She was stronger than he expected, so Jon was wincing at her grip. Then he thought about how she gripped her glass last night and it made more sense.

"I am," Jon replied softly. It made no sense to lie about it. Everybody knows that he is the rider. The jig was up. He just had to find an explanation to get out of this mess.

"Jon, thank you for protecting my family," Rhaenys said as softly as he. She placed her other hand on his. "We cannot repay for what you did for us." She leaned over and pecked him on the lips.

"It was the right thing to do," Jon replied. "You don't have to thank me. I would do it again if it was necessary."

Rhaenys pecked him again but that was it. It seemed like she was holding back. Jon wondered why. The princess has not been pulling any kisses when it concerned him.

"You have something else to say to me?" Jon asked.

"Yes, I do." Rhaenys sounded a little bit angry. "Why did you and your brother mock my cousins?" She let go of his hand.

"We mocked them?" Jon asked ludicrously. "They mocked us!"

"That's not what they said. My cousins told me that you and your brother came over to them in the yard and called them names."

"That's what they've told you?" Jon laughed. "You should not trust their word for it."

"Why can't I trust them?" The princess's voice sounded angrier than before. "They are my cousins."

"Yes, they are your cousins," Jon agreed, "But they're also hotheaded bitches that are too confident in themselves. Instead of them being called the Sand Snakes, they should be called the Sand bitches." He was angry now after remembering how the Sand Snakes insulted Arya.

He gasped in pain as Rhaenys pressed her hand on his bandage. She didn't do it softly but did it hard. He hissed as his side began to ache.

Rhaenys leaned close to his face, and Jon winced as the pressure on his side amplified. The princess growled, "Don't ever, ever, ever talk about my cousins like that again." She removed her hand, and Jon can breathe easier. The two sat in silence, thinking over what just happened.

Jon glared at her and said, "I don't care if they are your cousins. It's true of what I say about them, even when you don't believe it, Rhaenys."

"And I don't care of what you just said. Don't insult them, because you are bastard too," Rhaenys said coldly. He fell silent, digesting what she just said.  _If only you knew what I am._ Jon's chest burning was not from his wounds. He was hurt. He never thought the princess would say something like that.

Jon's huffed through his nose, and he can hear Rhaenys do the same. They stared at each other, both furious with the other.

Rhaenys growled and kissed him on the lips roughly. She sat on top of him and gripped the sides of his head angrily. Jon returned the fervor just as angrily as she is. The kiss had the same heat from last night but it was full of anger as well. Rhaenys did not care about his bandage as she leaned into him. Jon felt the pain but was too irritated to care. Punishing the princess's lips was what he did care about. He was just  **angry**.

Rhaenys was the one to break the kiss. She got up from the bed, fixed her hood, and left his tent without a word said. Jon stared after her, fuming.

Jon righted his blankets and forcibly closed his eyes, knowing today had been a terrible day for the North and for him.  _What the hell am I going to say tomorrow?_

But one thing was very certain. He will have to improvise the next day. Or maybe, he doesn't have to say anything at all.


	17. Chapter 17

**Jon**

_The two people in front of him laughed. The Dothraki's howled and rode their black horses. Jon was bound with ropes around his hands and was dragged along. This has been going on for a few days now. The two men captured him from a nearby village. There other Dothraki's too, at the sack but they went in their separate ways. Left behind at the burning village were bodies of children and the bodies of women that got raped multiple times._

_His feet were bare. In fact, he had nothing on his body at all. He was very nude. The two men got rid of his armor and whatever that was underneath. They didn't even keep the golden armor. They've stomped on the chest plate and threw everything away._

_The sun penetrated the sand, making it hot and loose. Walking barefoot on the sand was like walking on fragments of broken wood. After he groaned for a couple of hours, his feet became numb. He kept walking but couldn't feel the soles of his feet._

_Jon wanted this end. They have been riding nonstop. He thought that the sunset would heal his pain. But as the heat died down, the anesthesia also wore away. Each time he lifted his feet, the veins tightened and he felt the sand particles digging into his bleeding soles._

_He had tears in his eyes, but he was unable to cry because he was too thirsty to make a sound. He wanted to shudder but it would make the pain underneath his foot worse._

_I will not die here. Jon thought determinedly. With a spine straightened by an iron-clad resolve, he stopped and tugged the rope. The man that was holding the rope fell off his horse. Jon ran over to the man quickly and wrapped the rope around the man's throat and pulled. The Dothraki tried to yell but there was only a loud gasp. The man's face started to turn blue as Jon restricted his intake of air._

_The other Dothraki was not aware of what's happening. The man continued to ride along, thinking that he was talking to someone._

_Jon watched coldly as the man struggled in his hold. The Dothraki choked and opened his hand out to his still riding companion. Jon pulled on more time and the man stilled, saliva dripping from his mouth._

_He let the body drop. The man's face was a deep blue like the sky during the day. And his bloody red eyes stared at the dark clouds._

_Jon took the Arakh and sliced the rope. He went low and raced after the other man. The man was just looking at the bright moon when Jon struck his back. The Dothraki screamed and slumped to the ground. His horse reared its head and took off in a full gallop._

_Jon didn't wait for the man to say something. The Arakh tore through the man's flesh and parted his head from his shoulders. The body hit the dry sand._

_He sank to his knees, the curved sword still in his hands. Hesitantly, Jon looked underneath his foot. Peeled flesh hung down and congealed of blocks and blood and particles of sand clung to each hanging bit of skin. It looked as if someone literally used a dagger to cut the flesh under his feet from the heel to the toes._

_Horrified, Jon looked to the moon, trying not to think about his foot. He froze in place as he heard a low growl. Discouraged, he slowly looked behind him. The Hrakkar showed its razor-sharp teeth and walked towards him at a measured pace. Jon watched the animal wearily. He held the Arakh in his hands and waited for the animal to make the first move. He was still sitting, however._

_With a bloodthirsty snarl, the Hrakkar jumped at him._

It was morning when Jon stepped out from his tent, Ghost flanking him. Very close by was a mob that filled the camp to the brim. The once noisy crowd became quiet when he was in sight. Jon felt the stares of thousands. Men and Women stared at him with something akin to fear and awe. Children no longer cried and watched him silently, holding on to their parent's hands. Nobody said anything. And nobody moved. The air was noiselessness.

 _Is this how it's going to be from now on?_ Jon thought to himself quietly.

High in the sky, touching the clouds, was the black smoke. It did not get smaller from last night by any means. The murky ball of air was very noticeable from where he stands. It almost looked like it was trying to show how many deaths there had been last night when he was attacked. A lot of people died last night.

Jon did not react to the stares he was getting. He stared at the smoke of death and did not let himself waver from it. He had to see it. He then closed his eyes. And he can practically feel the bewildered eyes. He threw everyone off guard. Just as he said to Robb, he was unpredictable.

_The truth is out._

He closed his eyes and just stayed there. The air felt different. The people felt different.  **He** felt different. Everything changed. He just has to adapt to the flow. He then thought of Cannibal. He felt that the dragon was further away, flying to wherever he wants.

Jon reopened his eyes. And everyone was still staring at him. After a moment of thought, he started walking forward. Ghost padded along from his rear, head on the same height as Jon's chest.

People parted out of the way for him and Ghost. Faces were shocked and thoughtful as he passed through. Several people shied away from his gaze. His walk was a slight shamble, but he hid the debility well. He will push through the pain.

Robb shoved through the crowd, Theon in his wake. The Stark and the Greyjoy breathed heavily. The heir of Winterfell did a quick glance at the crowd and stared back at him. Theon did nothing but watched him.

"It seems that you have more fans than me now, brother." Robb smiled a little. "You are now loved more than I."

"I don't think I can say they love me." Jon glanced at the people. "I think they fear me. All I can see is fear. Your fans are not supposed to fear you." He gave a slight grin to his cousin.

Robb rushed forward and hugged him tightly. "You have to stop me from being worried about you all the time. I think I will die from all the stress."

Jon grimaced. His cousin was hugging him too tightly. His wounds still hurt. "I get what you say. I'm sorry that I can't stay out of trouble. But can you please be a good brother and stop crushing me?"

Robb chuckled softly and stepped back. "You know that I am the best brother in the world." Both of them looked to Theon, waiting for him to speak.

Theon breathed loudly. "I don't have any words, Snow. I don't know what to say about any of this. You are the fucking rider." The people in the crowd started whispering. It sounded like a couple of rats scurrying over a wooden floor. "You saved kingslanding." The whispers grew louder.

Robb placed a hand on Jon's shoulder. He looked at the crowd and said, "We should move from here. The family wants to talk to you."

"Talk where?" Jon asked.

"At the Godswood," Robb replied.

They started to walk through the dense crowd. It seemed like everyone from different parts of Westeros came to see him. All of the people stayed quiet and watched his every move. Their eyes burned him as his wounds did. To his small surprise, he spotted Edric Baratheon in the crowd. He hadn't seen him since he blew up at the feast.

Going through the castle was worse. The corridors were packed. The eyes on him seem to double. He nodded when he saw Jon Arryn. The old man nodded back at him, a serious gleam in his eye. The man's men blocked off anyone who got close. Jon saw the Sand Snakes and glared at them. The Sand Snakes looked shocked, not even glaring back at him. Arianne was next to them, and she smirked at him. Jon couldn't help but nod his head at the beautiful woman.

Even as crowded the corridors were no one said a word. Ghost being next to him stopped anyone from asking questions. The Direwolf's gaze was on everyone. Quite a few people backed up from the white animal. It was a normal occurrence to Jon and Ghost now.

They've made it to the Godswood. The whole Stark family was there except for Catelyn. Jory was present, standing by. The weirwood tree was in the middle, roots, and pines covering it. There was a little stream to be seen as well next to the tree.

"Jon!" Arya shouted. The rest of the Starks turned their heads at the young girls yell. Everyone looked at Jon as he strode to them. Robb and Theon sat down while Jon stood.

The stream offered its sound because nothing else was being heard. The Starks stayed silent, all of them looking at him with impatient faces.

Jon didn't want to say anything right now, so he crossed his arms and looked to the weirwood tree. On its face was an angry expression, bloody tears flowing from its bloody sockets. A shiver of unknown sorts ran through him. It was cold. His eyes narrowed as the leaves on the tree bent in the wind. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to see why it called him so.

Just as his hand was moving to touch the face, Arya shouted, "Are you going to talk now!" The Stark tapped her foot on the ground in annoyance. "We are waiting!"

Jon turned from the tree and smiled at the girl, eyebrow raised. "I was merely waiting for one of you to speak."

Arya would have spoken if Sansa didn't speak first, "Is it true that you are the rider, Jon? That you have the dragon under your control and saved Kingslanding?" Light wonder and amazement were in her eyes.

The others watched him with bated breath as he looked to the ground. He thought about a lot of things in which he was built. He does not tell secrets, even more so when it concerns how he feels. He holds secrets for some peoples good, and he holds secrets to not let himself to be hurt again.

He then looked straight into Sansa's eyes and said, "Aye, I am the rider. I did save Kings anding. And Cannibal is indeed under my control."  _Cannibal is somewhat under my control._

Each of the Starks was dumbfounded, except for Robb, who knew the truth before anyone.

"If he is under your control, then why did he set the forest on fire?" Alys accused. "I can even see the smoke from last night."

"He was injured, Alys," Robb told her. "I don't know how the dragon works, but I have a gist that the beast will react if his master is harmed. Greywind does the same when I am threatened."

"Three arrows it was," Jory remarked. "You were shot in the shoulder, side, and leg. I would say that the dragon reacted is just the thing."

"All of the men that were in the forest are dead," Theon told him. "You know, Jon, the fire almost reached the castle."

"That would have been bad to say at least," Jon said calmly. Feeling that his leg was getting wobbly, he sat down on one of the roots of the tree. "And yes, Cannibal will react very fast if I am in danger."

"Then how are you going to participate in the tourney?" Bran asked. "In the melee people will be hitting you." His voice was curious. "The joust is going to have contact too."

"Cannibal will know if I am in real danger or not." Jon hunched his shoulders, staring at the ground. "Let's just hope that nobody is going to deliberately try to kill me."

"By chance, what if you are killed?" Theon asked, looking pale.

"Then everybody will die. Not just everybody in this tourney, but absolutely everyone in every land will burn. Nobody is going to be safe from Cannibal's wrath," Jon responded, still staring at the ground.  _I think I am the anchor and Cannibal is the ship. If I do break, Cannibal will be loose in the world._ "But don't worry about that. I'll make sure that never happens."

It was the profound silence afterward that made Jon look up. Everyone was paler than the snows in the north. Even Rickon looked scared. The boy had tears in his eyes.

"Now that I think about it," Jon began, "Should I go back north with you all?"

"What!" Arya stood up, everyone coping her.

Jon smiled softly. "Just think about it, sister. I have a bounty on my head. Everywhere I go I have men wanting to kill me. I don't want to endanger my family."

"Where would you go?" Robb demanded. "Any place you go is going to be the same. The cost is not going to be different no matter where you run to."

"Not if I go back to where I found Cannibal."

The others looked confused but Robb started shaking his head. "No, no, no, no, no, no." He went to his feet and grabbed his head, his back facing them. "No, no, no, no, no."

Jon stood to his feet, his hand reaching for Robb. "Rob-"

"YOU CANNOT BE FUCKING SERIOUS!" Robb shouted, turning back to them. And the others jumped in shock. Robb pointed an angry finger at Jon. "You are not going back there! You said that place was dangerous!" Alys started to stand, but she sat down when Jon and Robb glared at her.

"I will go back if it needs to be," Jon replied. "I never said I will go there. I was only suggesting it."

"What place are you talking about?" Theon asked.

Robb looked to the Greyjoy, calmer now. "The place is old Valyria. He sailed there with Lord Tyrion. It was there where he found the dragon."

Theon swallowed and then asked, "If you did go there, what is in that place?"

Jon was stared at when he answered, "Things that you will remember to the day of your deathbed." He then thought of the monsters other than the Krakens. They were vicious, but Cannibal was more than capable to burn them into a tasty snack. However, there was a time when his dragon was on his last leg.

"Don't forget all the Valyrian steel you have gotten," Robb remarked. "I have seen Jon looking through all those bags he has on the dragon's back. He is too greedy to share."

"He gave me a dagger before we came to the tourney!" Arya commented. "I asked him where he got it, but he wouldn't answer."

 _Why would you say that, Arya?_ Jon breathed through his nose as Bran and Rickon glared at him. Sansa didn't look to be too upset. The auburn-head girl has always been indifferent to weapons. She would rather try to sing to her enemies than to resort to violence.

"Why did she get one and I didn't?" Rickon asked him, face warped with jealousy. "I want one as well!"

"That's unfair for her to get one when the rest us didn't even know," Bran accused silently. "And it was not even her name day."

Jon kept his eyes on Robb and Arya when he was being interrogated. Robb shrugged at him, an easy going grin on his face. Arya didn't meet his gaze; she stared at her feet, a blush on her cheeks.

It seemed that Robb took pity on him as he said, "Ok, settle down everyone. I am sure that he will be fair and give everyone their share." He said this with his eyes mostly on Bran and Rickon.

The two Starks nodded then, seemingly satisfied.

"Where is my stuff?" Jon asked Robb. "I did not see it in my tent."

Robb looked away, face unsure. "I don't know what happened to it. I think one of the prince's men picked it up when they went to get you. The royal family must have it in their possession."

"Robb," Jon began.

"Don't blame me on this. I did not think about the bags. I was worried about you and you only," Robb said, giving him a hard stare.

Jon couldn't find a fault in this. Robb was just trying to be helpful. Any man would have been confused if they were in his cousin's place. It would've been a miracle if Robb had grabbed the bag and took care of him at the same time. Cannibal's blistering flame can make the calmest man lose their focus and abandon everything.

"Can I ride on the dragon, Jon?" Bran asked. Everyone looked to Jon eagerly and curiously. Arya and Rickon couldn't wait to hear his answer. The two had stood up and was bouncing on the heel of their feet.

"No, you cannot ride him," Jon responded quickly. "I am the only one who can take flight with him. That is never going to change."

Bran, Arya, and Rickon faces fell.

"I just wanted to fly," Bran whispered.

"Well, nothing is going to stop you from flying in your dreams," Jon replied. He hadn't said that in jest. He was being serious. But Arya, Rickon, Alys, and Sansa chuckled. Robb smiled, but it was curbed by the serious look in his eye.

"Why is that?" Bran asked. His normally composed voice was slightly angry. "How are you the only one to be able to ride on the dragon's back?"

Robb failed to hide his tenseness as he crossed his arms. The man was eyeing him, fingers tapping on his right arm.  _I have to be careful here._

"My father told me that my mother sailed from Lys," Jon said naturally, making it sound as if what he is saying was not of great importance. "The blood of old Valyria flows through me like my mothers." The lie rolled easily on his lips. But the lie made his tongue feel dirty. He wanted nothing better to do but to bite his mouth very hard.

"And the dragon has taken a liking to you because of your blood," Robb remarked, a finger on his chin. Jon had to smile at the man's pretense. Robb asked the question as if to make what he had said truer.

"Aye, Cannibal did." He and Robb looked at each other for a moment before turning away. They both knew that they fooled the family with that act.

"That explains everything then," Bran said. He looked disappointed. Jon wanted to cheer him up with some words but didn't do it. It will achieve nothing if he did so. His cousin had to know what he wanted to do is impossible.

"It explains everything!" Robb said quickly. "What he said was absolutely true!" His voice was slightly nervous. Jon wanted to punch him. In fact, he wanted to punch him  **very**  hard.

The Stark was stared at by everyone. They had unknowingly let the stream to be the only sound once again. The Weirwood tree watched them all with its bloody sockets.

"Aye, what I've said was absolutely true," Jon said it slowly. Robb turned his face away from the stares. Alys looked like she wanted to slap her husband over the head. Minus Jory, everyone else looked the same way.

He and the others looked as Mya Stone strolled towards them confidently. Behind the bastard were the five other Direwolves. The graceful but deadly animals almost looked like they were escorting Mya as if she was a prisoner. When Mya was in front of him, the Direwolves split off and went to their owners.

"Did you come to stare at me too?" Jon asked Mya. "I've had a lot of people doing that lately. I want it to stop."

"I saw the stares. And I saw the crowd that was around your tent," Mya replied, grinning a little. "But I didn't come here to stare at you. I came here on the wishes of the royal family."

"I know that you are the princess's handmaid," Robb remarked, "But I didn't know that you are a messenger to."

Mya drifted her eyes to the Stark and said, "I do whatever the royal family instructs me to do. I don't just help princess Rhaenys in her tasks." Her voice was void of emotions and so was her face.

"How do you feel about that?" Alys asked, eyes observing Mya. "How do you feel serving the family of a man that killed your father?"

Mya became silent. She frowned, staring at Alys, pondering. The bastard took a seat next to Jon on one of the roots. She joined her fingers together and said, "All of you might think that I detest every member of the Targaryen family. I don't have a good reason not to. But they haven't threatened me. They haven't mocked me who I am. There are only two people in that family that I don't like."  _I know exactly who you talking about._

"And who are those two people?" Sansa asked.

"I can't say their names," Mya said swiftly. "I'm not allowed to."

"I never felt like a bastard when I am serving them. The king and the queen respect me. The prince doesn't treat me any different from every else. And the princess…" Mya paused, taking a shallow breath. "Oddly enough, she treats me like a sister. People may think that Rhaenys is headstrong and stubborn, but she is very kind when you get to know her." She glanced at Jon from the corner of her eye. "We even slept in the same bed together and talked with each other."  _Did the princess tell her what she did to me? A kind person would not willingly cause people more pain._

"The princess talks to you a lot, doesn't she?" Robb asked casually. "She shares many things with you?"

Mya glanced at Jon again and looked back to Robb. "Yes, she says many things."

"Oh, that's interesting to hear." Robb looked at Jon as he said that.

"No, I don't hate the Targaryens. I will continue serving them faithfully like I have been doing for years," Mya said.

"And I wish you good luck in doing that." Jon grimaced as he lifted his leg onto the root. "Though I wonder what they want from us right now."

"Everybody knows why. The royal family wants to meet with you in their private chamber," Mya told him patiently.

"Do you see me differently now because I am the rider?" Jon asked her. "Everyone else sees me like I am not the same person."

Mya shook her head. "No, you are the same person to me. You are still my friend even with a dragon." Her blue eyes were intense.

Jon stood and hugged her, and Mya hugged back. When he released the embrace, everyone was eyeing them in amusement.

"So when did you two become friends?" Arya asked cheekily. "I thought I would've been the first person to know if you met a girl."

"No, I would have been the first person told," Robb told her smugly. To Jon's relief, his cousin did not say anymore. He did not want to think about Rhaenys. What she did last night still angered him.

Mya then stood from the root and looked at him. "We should go meet them before long."

"They're waiting for me now?" Jon asked.

Mya nodded. "The Targaryen's are quite anxious this morning for the meeting. It was the first time I ever saw them rush through their breakfast like that."

"I am going with him," Robb declared, uncrossing his arms.

"They didn't ask for you," Mya retorted sharply. "They asked for Jon only."

"I guess it's too bad because I am going with him anyway," Robb countered with a big grin. "They have to deal with Robb Stark too."

"Mya, lead us to their chamber," Jon told the handmaid, favoring his right leg over the left. "The prince and the princess are not patient people."

Mya looked like she still wanted to argue, but she turned around and started walking out. Jon and Robb said their goodbyes to the other Starks before walking behind the bastard.

….

Even as big as the castle is, Mya was able to walk through the castle like she had been doing this for some time. When Jon thought they were lost, Mya just turned another corner with nothing to say.

"You shouldn't really be up," Robb remarked from his side, eyes on Mya's back. "You need to be in bed. I know you are hurting."

Jon said nothing, continuing to walk with the two. Robb sighed but said nothing to him. They slightly increased their pace to keep up with the handmaid in silence. The three went down the corridors with no disturbances.

Mya stopped in front of a door and stopped. They all heard the voices behind the door. She looked back at them one time and knocked on the door politely. "Its Mya and I've come with Robb Stark and Jon Snow," She said called out.

There was a pause on the other side of the door. "You may enter," The prince called back.

Mya opened the door and walked in, Jon and Robb at her step. The whole Targaryen and the Martell family were seated around the table, Aegon and Margaery at the head. Gerold and Willas were present also. At the prince's side were his two bags. They do not look like they have been opened.

Mya closed the door after them and grabbed a flagon off a table before moving behind the princess's chair. The handmaiden gave him a sage nod. Jon slightly shrugged his shoulders, and Mya actually rolled her eyes. The bastard went still when everyone glanced at her.

Jon and Robb stood in silence as they were eyed intensely. The Sand Snakes seemed to have recovered from their shock because they were now glaring at him. All he wanted to do was to snarl at them. Robb looked like he wanted to do the same but even worse. The Stark was clenching and unclenching his hands, eyes moving between Gerold and the Sand Snakes.  _Be patient, Robb. You will get your hands dirty in the melee._

"A normal man would have stayed in bed after what happened," Aegon said at last. "But you are not a normal man, Snow. How are the bandages treating you?"

Jon frowned and replied, "The bandages are holding up fine. However, it will be pure agony if someone, with the intent to do me serious harm, presses against it. I will even call the act cruel." His face gave nothing away. Instead, he looked at the prince.

He did not look at the princess when he said that. But he saw how much Mya narrowed her eyes at him. And he heard a sound where Rhaenys was seated.

Robb then whispered in his ear so nobody can hear. "Did someone do that to you, brother?" His face and voice were angry.

"I don't know if I want to tell you," Jon whispered back, just as low. "I'll think about it later."

"You made it sound like if someone did that to you," Arianne remarked mildly, though her eyes were on Rhaenys for some strange reason. Her eyes were narrowed on the princess in heavy suspicion.

"Why are you looking at me?" Rhaenys demanded. Her voice was tight.

Arianne looked at the princess, a smile on her face. "I was just making sure you were fine. I can't look at you, Rhae?"

"No, look somewhere else."

"What's the matter, cousin?"

"There is nothing wrong. I want you to stop talking to me."

Everyone in the room stared at the two olive-skinned women. Rhaenys's face had no emotions as she stared at her cousin, but her eyes were cold. Arianne was open with her face. She was smiling at the princess. The Sand Snakes watched them sullenly.  _What is going on between them all?_

"You can tell me anything, Rhae. We have been doing it for years," Arianne said, still having her smile.

"Are you deaf? I said that I want you to stop talking to me."

"Rhae, Ari, please stop," Aegon spoken. "If you two haven't noticed, we have guests in this room. And we so happened to have the interest to discuss with one of them." Nothing was heard from Rhaenys and Arianne, but the two did battle with their eyes.

Aegon looked at Robb and said, "I may be confused, but we didn't summon you, Lord Stark." His voice was anything other than confused. Aegon kept his eyes on the Stark, hands folded on the table.

Robb stood tall in the eyes of many. "You have summoned my brother, my prince. It is only right that I accompany him as well."

"That isn't necessary, my lord," Willas insisted from where he sat next to Gerold. "We will do nothing to harm your brother."

"Forgive me if I sound rude, my lords and ladies." Robb chuckled, head shaking to the left and to the right. "But in this room are families that were enemies to house Stark. I don't safe even now." His eyes slid to the Sand Snakes. "I especially don't feel safe with them here."

_You are going too far now, Robb._

The Sand Snakes looked angry. Oberyn stared at Robb, a viperous gleam in his eyes. He looked like a snake ready to leap at its foe. "Are you insulting my daughters, Lord Stark?" His voice had an underlying tone of threat. Jon can hear it clear as day. The prince might as well have shouted it.

"You are correct. I am insulting your daughters, my prince," Robb said, face stoic and voice cool. He looked like his father then. "Every single one of them is hazards in a human body."

"You are really a bold one!" Oberyn shouted, not caring to his anger now. He stood up and started to move around the table. Before the Red Viper can reach the Stark, Jaime Lannister stepped in his path, a hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Move out the way, Kingslayer," Oberyn demanded harshly. "I wouldn't want to spill blood on your precious white cloak." Jaime did not move. His green eyes did not dither beneath the viper's glare. It was a lion staring down at a venomous snake.

"You will not draw your sword on my brother, you snake," Cersei snarled like the lioness she was. "You will not dare harm someone with Lannister blood!"

"The Lannister name doesn't mean anything now," Arianne said smugly. "It went down the sewage pipe as soon as you had a son named Joffrey. It is only luck that he is the son of Viserys."

Joffrey fumed and his eyes narrowed. He stood up and punched the table with his fist. The sound flooded in the room. "Shut up bitch!" He roared. "I am sick and tired of you vermin's pretending that your house actually holds a fucking thing! Your father is nothing but a cripple!" Willas winced in his seat. Margaery and Gerold glared at Joffrey. Tyrion groaned loudly as if he knows what's coming next.

Quentyn, Trystane, Rhaenys, Arianne, and the Sand Snakes stood up from their seats. All of them had fire in their brown eyes. Cersei also stood, glaring at them. Because he is his nephew, Tyrion stood up. Tommen and Viserys still sat. Near the table, Oberyn redoubled his efforts to get past Jaime. Loras went to help Jaime to contain the angry prince.

 _This is my family._ Jon and Robb looked to each other, their calm faces overridden with astonished faces. Jon looked to Mya. The handmaid met his gaze and just blew out a breath. She moved away from the family.  _This is mad._

Curses were thrown. The pointing of fingers was seen. The whole room was loud. Aegon was holding his head, face hidden by his silver hair. Margaery was touching the prince by the arm but it wasn't working. The prince looked like he was about to detonate.

"Everyone shut UP!" Aegon then shouted, rising from his chair. "I'm tired of this! Everyone, please sit the fuck down! We have guests!"

Aegon was always a person who wore a smile. The prince never shouted and never showed anger before. As such, everyone flopped to their seats when they heard the anger in his voice. Aegon was stared at as if he was a faceless man who took the owners face. Even Rhaenys looked at him like he wasn't her brother. Viserys was just smiling. Tommen looked scared of Aegon.

"You wanted to let that out, didn't you?" Viserys asked after ten minutes of silence. He sounded like he wanted to laugh. He rubbed the scared Tommen on the shoulder. Aegon didn't answer. He looked around the table, lilac eyes a purple flame.

"Seven knows that I wanted to." Aegon sagged in his chair and closed his eyes. He looked tired. "I can't wait until father and mother arrive. I can't deal with this anymore."  _If I had to deal with this every day, then I would be tired too._

The prince opened one eye and looked to Jon. "You see why I invited you to the high table, Snow? Most of the people here just argue with each other. My uncle Viserys and Tommen are the only people I can talk with. My sister can talk sometime, and I love her dearly. But she can be irritating like no other at times too. But it's probably the older sister thing. But it doesn't mean that I enjoy it. She is too stubborn." Rhaenys's exotic face was in a frown at her brother's words. Jon looked away before the princess can turn her eyes on him. He felt angry and ashamed. He told himself that he will not give in to her advances, and yet he had kissed her again. But most of all she had called him a lying bastard and hurt him when he was at his lowest.  _It seems like she doesn't care about me in the slightest._

Robb was still looking shocked next to him. Jon was feeling the same. He had trouble thinking by looking at all of the angry faces that were watching him. Aegon still looked ticked off.

"You have a nice family, my prince," Jon said gradually. That was the only thing he thought of to say. "Anybody would be happy to have that."

Aegon chuckled and sat up. "Don't mince your words now, Snow. You have not been soft with your words at all during your stay here."

"He has been saving all of his scathing remarks for me, my prince," Tyrion unnecessary commented. "You have not seen the worst yet."

"I bet I haven't," Aegon replied. "People think your bluntness is very rude, Snow. But I think it is a fresh take of air. Like what my father told me, a person must always have someone who is not afraid to tell them what is facts and what is not. My grandfather, the mad king, had no one to oppose him. And hundreds of innocents burned in wildfire because of that. I think if you were there when the burning was happening you would have stopped him."

"I would've stepped in," Jon said, nodding. He would've slain his grandfather himself. That man was mad.

"As I know you would." Aegon eyed his bags. "Let us discuss why you are here before my family can start shouting their brains out again." The prince ignored the glares that were flinging at him.

"Yes, we should do that," Jon agreed. "I am indeed the rider." Everyone around the table stiffened. "And I am the one who saved Kingslanding."

"How did you manage to find such a dragon?" Viserys asked a second later. His voice was coated with wonder. "That thing is immense."

"We found the dragon in Old Valyria." All the heads turned to Tyrion. "I had recruited Snow on the expedition to find my uncle." For a moment Tyrion's eyes saddened. Jon and he never found a trace of Gerion or the Lannisters ancestral sword.

"That was the smartest thing you ever did in Essos, my lord," Jon remarked. "You would not have lived with only the crew that you had."

"Yellow Tooth and Joseph were decent," Tyrion insisted. "They were good at what they did and were good at drinking."

Jon gave Tyrion a look. The dwarf sighed and poured himself some wine.

"Who is Yellow Tooth? Who is Joseph?" Robb asked. The Stark looked as confused as everyone else did.

"They were just some old friends that we knew," Tyrion answered.

"They were friends?" Jon asked. "They would've killed you if I hadn't stopped them. Yellow Tooth even said that he would chop your cock off and stuff it in your mouth." Tommen gasped.

"We have to pay the dead with our respects," Tyrion replied firmly. "We are getting off topic. Let us go back to what's at hand."

"Yes, we should," Aegon said, still looking mighty confused. He shook off the emotion that was on his face a minute after. "How were you able to fly the dragon? I thought people with the blood of Valyria were the only ones able to ride dragons?"

Jon stayed calm when the prince and the rest eyed him closely. Tyrion had stopped drinking; He was watching him too. Robb was holding his breath like it was the only thing he has. "I do have Valyrian blood," Jon told them. "My lord father had lain with a woman that sailed from Lys. My eyes, my blood, and my connection to Cannibal came from her."

"Do you know what her name is? Or where she is located?" Aegon asked curiously. The prince's family looked more relaxed. Tyrion picked up his drink. And Robb was breathing freely now.

"No, I don't. My lord father will not tell me of her." That would have gone on longer if he hadn't known the truth. Jon does not know if his uncle would have ever told him who his mother was.

"Make him tell you of her when you go back north," Aegon said. To Jon's surprise and approval, the prince looked serious with what he had said.

"I will do that," Jon responded.

"And you just like doing stuff for my family, Snow." Aegon gave him a smile, a true smile. "You fought against the invaders with your black dragon for us. And is it true that you were fighting against the entire army by yourself on the Blackwater? I had not seen it, and my father will not tell me."

"I did not. I killed my share of men, but Cannibal was the one sending the most of them to their deaths."

"What do you want?"

"Excuse me, my prince?" Jon asked. His eyes blinked two times without him heeding it.

Aegon had an unflinching, determined look in his lilac eyes. "I don't think anyone in history has done this much for the name of house Targaryen. And I, to my deepest amount of joy, will grant you with anything that you take a liking to."

Jon frowned at the prince and looked to his hands. Aegon's offer was what many people had dreamed of having. But he was not one of those people. He was Jon Snow; a Targaryen that nobody knew existed. He does not want anything from his family. He does not want them to give him anything.

"My prince, I do not want anything."

Aegon was unmoving when the rest of his family members started talking in loud voices. Margaery and Rhaenys were whispering in the prince's ear.  _What are they saying?_

"You must want something!" Oberyn had contempt in his eyes but there was curiosity too. "Everybody wants' something!"

"Think very carefully on this, Snow," Viserys told him.

"I do not want anything," Jon told them again.

"That is not true, brother," Robb exclaimed, grabbing everybody's attention. "I know what he wants." When his cousin glanced at him, Jon stayed silent to hear what he has to say.

Robb slanted his eyes to the prince. "My brother wants the Stark name, my prince." Jon went still, as did the rest of them.

It was silent when Aegon looked to him. "Is that what you want? You want the Stark name?" His purple eyes were staring through his body.

 _I've always wanted to be a Stark before I knew who I was. Do I still want the name even now?_  He was conflicted. But there was a slight wanting inside him. It had always been there, crouching, but still present. He can never be a Targaryen in plain sight, but he can be a Stark. And the name will honor his mother, Lyanna Stark.

Jon raised his eyes to the waiting face of Aegon, mind clear. "Yes, I want to be a Stark."

Aegon grinned hard, looking pleased. "Good man! I will take your request to the king as soon as he gets here. Despite your laughable protesting, I will discuss what you should further receive with my father as well." He and Viserys nodded at him respectfully.

Jon smiled a little as Robb hugged him. It was his hiss that made the Stark realized what he was doing. Robb unwraps his hands from him, looking sheepish but in high spirits as well.

"Mya, give him his bags," Rhaenys told the bastard. Jon didn't look at what was on the princess's face when he took his bags from the handmaid. He didn't think he can look at her for a while.

Mya had uttered, "Congratulations," before moving back behind Rhaenys's chair. The bastard's face was guarded.

Jon let his smile fall. Here he was, celebrating when Mya is still going to be a Stone. He felt bad for her. It was then that Mya nodded at him, a smile on her lips. Jon nodded back and felt a little better about everything.

"We didn't go through your belongings if you were wondering," Aegon said. "Though, one in particular almost opened one of the bags when we weren't noticing." The prince glanced at Tommen.

Tommen blushed under the gazes he was getting. Viserys laughed and patted his shoulder, not angry in the slightest.

"It is fine, my prince." Jon opened a bag. He was slow and careful into picking up a sword, eyeing Jaime and Loras warily. While Jaime looked amused, Loras was angry in the face. Their attention was now engrossed in the sword. There was a sharp intake of breath from one of the people at the table.

When Aegon held up his hand, the two kingsguards went into two separate corners of the room. Jon nodded at the prince and stepped in front of Tommen, sword in hand.

Tommen looked at his father as if he wanted to get his permission before doing anything. Viserys nodded. And the boy took the handle of the sword and smiled.

Tommen waved the sword in the air a couple of times, a large smile on his plump cheeks. His green eyes were bright with elation. The smile on his face was still there when the boy gave the sword back. Viserys shook Jon's hand with firmness.

"Are you still going to be at our table at the feast?" Viserys asked. There was a slight eagerness in his eyes that he did not try to hide.

"I am, my prince." Jon placed the sword in the bag. He and Robb bowed before the prince and left the chamber. The two walked down the hallway.

It was a while after when Robb laughed. "I was not expecting them to argue like that. Nor did I expect for the prince to shout."

"I am as shocked as you, brother." Jon raised his eyebrows at a couple who was staring at them. The man and the woman quickly averted their gaze.

"We should eat with the others. I am getting hungry." Robb's stomach growled.

Jon shook his head. "No, I don't feel hungry at all. I want to be by myself for a while." He wanted to think about everything that had changed. He has to adapt to the flow.

"You want to brood?" Robb grinned.

"Yes, if you want to call it that." Jon rolled his eyes but smiled.

"In the meantime, let me get these off your hands." Robb gestured to his bags. "I will put these in your new rooms." He started for them.

"Why would you do that?" Jon asked, backing up.

"I'm going to have a room too," Robb replied, eyes still on the bags. "I will even get all of your stuff and drop off in your room."

It was an offer that he couldn't refuse. Though, Jon asked, "Is there any reason why you are moving in too?" He narrowed his eyes. "You did not get the privilege to do so. You did not do a single thing."

"Piss on privilege." Robb rolled his eyes. "I even said in front of the Targaryens that it is my right to be by your side."

"Ok, I shouldn't be suspicious right, brother?" Jon gave the bags to his cousin. He eyed the other man as he did so.

"You shouldn't be suspicious about me at all, Jon Stark."  _It has a ring to it._

Jon and Robb smiled at each other. They soon walked in different directions. He walked through the castle, slightly limping.

….

The rock in his hand was flat and smooth. At his feet was a pile of the same type of rocks. He had put those there so he wouldn't have to go searching for more after each throw. It was irritating for his leg.

He held the stone between his thumb and finger and held his index finger around the edge of the rock. He then lowered his dominant arm. He threw the rock, arm singling in one fluid motion.

The spinning rock bounced off the surface of the water multiple times. The water rippled and made a pop sound whenever the rock touched it. He felt at peace when he listens as the rock skipped on the water. His shoulder hurt like a bitch when he throws a rock but nothing was going to stop him from doing what he likes.

He was currently at the bank. No one was here. And so there was no one to bother him. He needed peace and this place offered it for free. Jon threw another rock and smiled.

"So the great rider spends his time throwing rocks in the lake instead of recovering to fight in the tourney?"

"Yes, it eases my mind." Jon glanced behind him at Arianne and looked back in front of him. He threw another rock and watched it sink. "Where are your cousins?"

"They are off with the princess Rhaenys," Jon heard her say. "Would it have bothered you if they were here?"

"Yes, it would have bothered me very much, my lady."

Arianne laughed. "I am not a lady. I am the princess of Dorne."

Jon did not reply. He did not want to talk to her. It may have been wrong to be cold to her when their cousins are the ones that earned his ire but it's just what it is.

"You don't have to ignore me, Snow. I know how angry you and your brother are with them. But I am not my cousins. Don't be rude to me."

"You are right, my princess." Jon watched the rock skip over the water. "I don't have to ignore you." He picked up a new rock.

"What is it that you are doing?" Arianne walked to his side. "You are wasting your life away by playing with rocks and water."

Jon had to smile. What he was doing does sound ridiculous. He lowered his arm and threw the rock. "It's my activity I like to do when I have to think. I call it skipping rocks. It's very pleasing when you try it." He did this in Valyria. He used to sit and watch as the rocks crumble in the boiling waters.

"Skipping rocks…" Arianne tested the name on her lips. "What is the purpose of this activity?" She watched as he picked up another rock.

Jon stopped midway of lowering his arm. He brought himself to his full height and pondered. "There is no actual purpose. You can picture it on how you want to picture it. I mostly do this to relieve stress."

Arianne went so quiet that Jon thought she had left. He took one glance to his left to see that she was still there, eyeing the smooth gentle waves of the waters.

"Teach me how to skip rocks," Arianne then said. "I want to learn."

Jon looked her over. "You have stress? You look fine to me, my princess," he said, voice a little dry.

Arianne didn't respond. It seems like she wanted to do it herself because she picked up a rock from the pile. She tried to mirror the stance that he had done, but she did a poor job at it. When she threw the rock it curved and hit the ground. The rock rolled into the waters with a sad pop. Jon stared at the little ripple, eyes processing what he just saw.

A deep chuckle arouses in his esophagus until it was out of his mouth. He dropped the rock that was in his hands and laughed without restraint. He glanced at the ripple during the lulls of his laughter and continued laughing.

"Stop your laughter," Arianne commanded with a faint smile on her lips. "This is my first time skipping rocks. Do not judge me, Snow."

Jon managed to halt his laughter, but his shoulders were still shaking with the need to laugh. "You are wrong, my princess. I was not judging you. I was laughing at you. That's a big difference."

"You are bold just like your brother," Arianne remarked calmly. "You are a bit arrogant too, but I think I know why." She placed a hand on her hip.

"I may be arrogant, my princess, but I am willingly going to teach you how to skip rocks. No arrogant man can say that."

Arianne nodded in satisfaction. "Show me how to do it then, arrogant man."

"Do I have your permission to touch you?" Jon coughed at her blank look. "It is only right to ask you because…I need to demonstrate."

The short woman nodded. And Jon went behind her and grabbed her by the arm. He took a rock and held it out for her can see. "You see this rock? It is a triangular rock. I find it easier using them than round ones." He placed the rock in her hands.

"Then hold it between your fingers like this." Jon wrapped her hands around the rock the right way. He lightly grabbed Arianne's hips to straighten her body. "Make sure that you always face the water."

"I am not stupid."

"I'm not saying that you are. I'm just saying that because your last throw landed on the ground when it supposed to be in the water."

Jon smiled a little when she snorted. "Next, keep your shoulder-width apart and your knees bent." When she did those things, Jon went on with his steps. "The last part is the throwing. Throw your arm out in front of you and release the rock when it's in front of your body. Don't throw it hard, princess. Try to make your release quick."

Jon stepped back and watched her redo the steps he had taught her. Arianne narrowed her eyes in concentration, lowered her arm, and threw the rock quickly. Jon nodded his head when the rock skipped on the water five times in succession before sinking.

"You are a quick learner," Jon commented.

"I had a good teacher," Arianne replied with a smile.

"What do you think about skipping rocks?"

Arianne looked at him for a moment. "It is interesting." She had a coy smile on her face that she tried to hide by looking at the lake.

"That's good." Jon grabbed a rock and faced the waters.

"Snow," Arianne called. Jon looked the short woman, his hands at his sides.

"I know you said that you've said that you only do this to relieve your stress," Arianne began.

"I've said that." Jon wondered what she was thinking.

"Do you want to see which one of our rocks can skip the longest?"

"You want to make this a competition," Jon said flatly.

"Yes, it sounds exciting. Don't you agree with me?"

Jon looked to the waters, knowing that Arianne was watching him as he pondered. There was no harm in her suggestion. And the princess of Dorne was not like the Sand bitches.

"I accept."

Arianne grinned deviously. "Be careful now, Snow. You don't want a woman beating you at your own game."

"I assure you," Jon started, letting a grin come on his face, "That is defiantly never going to happen, princess of Dorne."  _She thinks that she is going to beat me at my own game! Ha! It's time to knock her on her ass._

….

Jon sat on his ass and wrapped his hands around his knees, face in a scowl. Still standing with her hands on her hips and smirking down at him was Arianne. The victorious woman looked like she had won the world. The pile of rocks was now depleted. They were resting underneath the lake.

"'That is definitely never going to happen.'" Arianne mocked him by trying to use the best Imitation of his voice. "What just happened, Snow?"

"I don't know."

"You are a sour loser, Snow." Arianne teased him and sat down too. "What are you going to do if you lose the joust or get eliminated from the melee?"

"Brood all alone and get better," Jon said shortly. He had not meant to respond, but he was easing into the woman's presence. He can say that she is a joy to talk to. But he was still wary.

Arianne chuckled softly. And they fell into a comfortable silence.

While staring at the lake, he thought of the meeting in that chamber. He looked to Arianne and said, "You were angry at Joffrey Targaryen earlier."

Arianne looked at him in confusion, and then her eyes narrowed in realization. "Yes, I wanted to punch that boy in the mouth and make him bleed for talking about my father." She told him how she really felt by the extreme anger in her voice.

"You think you can make him bleed?" Jon asked her.

"Yes," Arianne answered with confidence that he did not know was earned yet. "My uncle has trained me himself in hand-to-hand combat."

"Show me then." Arianne's eyes widened in shock when Jon stood up, holding both of his hands out in front of his chest. "Strike my palms."

The woman's shock quickly turned into smugness. Arianne stood up and formed her hands into fists. "Are you sure about this, Snow? I don't want to make you more injured than you already are now."

"Show me your best, princess," Jon said calmly.

It was when Arianne had landed her first blow that he wanted to laugh. The woman's form was horrible. She looked like she was swinging her fists for the first time. Jon blocked her strikes with ease. And with each block, his amusement grows. His amusement was now so palpable that he wore a smirk.  _Arya and Bran can do better than this._

It was after the sixth punch that he said, "What is going on, princess? Surely the Red Viper taught you better?"

Arianne didn't reply. She kept pounding his fists with sloppy blows, a smirk on her face. Jon frowned.  _She should not be smirking._

"You should let me show you how to do it. The Red Viper can't tea-"

Jon was interrupted by a strong punch to his mouth. It was strong enough to jar his head to his side and make him fall into the lake with a loud splash. Everything was spinning when he came up from the water, gasping and shaking from the cold. His long hair was drenched and it hung to his face even more than normal. He tasted blood in his mouth as he swam out of the water.

"You underestimated me," Arianne said. Her smirk was larger. "You let your guard down. Now you are bleeding in the mouth and confused to what's going on. What would people say when they hear that the princess of Dorne caused the rider to bleed?"

Jon blinked slowly, not really focusing on her words. He touched his lip and looked at his hand, seeing the blood on them.  _Did Rhaenys learn from her uncle too? Can she punch like this?_ Jon thought with stupid wonderment.

He was too caught up in his mind to react as Arianne kissed him. And he was too slow to stop her from exploring his mouth with her tongue. Jon still didn't react when she pulled away from him.

"What did you just do?" Jon asked in a slight daze. He sounded like he had no energy to speak. He was still trying to get his mind right from the punch he had so unexpectedly received to his face. He would have never thought she can hit like that.

Arianne smiled, showing mischief in her eyes. His blood that was on her lips was cleared by a quick swipe of her tongue. "You had blood on your lips, Snow. I thought it would be kind of me to get it off for you. I will look forward to skipping rocks with you again." She turned around and sauntered back to the castle.

Jon went over to a tree, placing his head on it, and closed his eyes. He decided to take a quick nap.

….

The world looked to have stopped as Jon walked in the great hall, walking unevenly. The talking, the laughs, and the music stopped precipitously. People left the conversations they were in to stare at him.  _Here we go again._ Jon thought, beginning to walk forward to the high table. It was going to be a long walk.

It was one of the Northmen, Small Jon, who shouted, "Everybody in this damned hall better clap for this fucker!" The man banged his cup on the table, as did his father. "He is the fucking man! I am proud to say that he comes from the north!"

"He is the dragon rider that saved Kingslanding!" Jorah Mormont from Bear Island shouted, raising his large cup. His table shouted with him and slammed their cups on the table.

After the declaration from the Northmen, the sound of claps reverberated throughout the great hall. It was loud. It would have been heard from the wall and from lands behind it. People's eyes were curious as they clapped and shouted for him.

"We should give you another name," Aegon commented from the high table, looking down at him. His family looked at the prince, eyes inquisitive. The same curious eyes were from everyone. The prince scrunched his face in thought. Before long, the man's face broke out in a boyish grin. "We shall name you Jon Blackscale. Your dragon has black scales, does he not?"

The prince did not wait for him to answer. Aegon swerved his head to the tables, lilac eyes looking for someone. "Gerris, what do you think about the moniker?" He asked loudly. People started to look for that person.

A comely man with blue-green eyes and sandy, streaked hair, pondered on the question. Seating with Gerris Drinkwater was a man with sky blue eyes and light sandy hair. They did not have to wait long before Gerris stood and said, "The name sounds good in my ears, my prince!" His smile was playful. "Let the name Jon Blackscale be born from his dragon's green flame!"

Jon found himself liking the man already and nodded at him. Gerris smiled and winked at him playfully. The man turned his attention to Daemon when the bastard started to say something to him.

Up at the high table, Quentyn looked like he had to restrain himself from rolling his eyeballs. Everyone at Aegon's table looked like they wanted to do the same.

_I like the name, oddly enough. Jon Blackscale has a ring to it. But there is another name, however._

"You honor me, your highness," Jon said. "I like the name, though are you trying to replace Jon Stark with Jon Blackscale so soon before I can get legitimized?"

Aegon chuckled politely. But there was confusion in everyone else's eyes. Those who sat at the high table looked calm. They all knew what was discussed in the chambers this morning. One by one people started to stretch their eyes further as they realized his meaning. There was an additional clapping for him.

At one of the tables, Robb and Catelyn were talking with Blackfish and Edmure. By the red faces and the violent hand gesturing, Jon knew what they spoke was not pretty to hear. But he did not care what they thought of him. He was the man of his own destiny. He wanted to be Jon Stark, and he will be Jon Stark.

Aegon almost looked impatient as he watched him. Taking the obvious hint, Jon strolled to the high table and surveyed it for a free seat. There was a space next to Rhaenys, but Jon passed the princess without a glance. He thought that was the end of it, but Rhaenys grabbed his hand softly. It almost made him stop. Passing over the slight twinge in his chest, he removed himself from her soft hand and moved on. Jon sat down between Aegon and Arianne.

 _What was she thinking by doing that?_ But nobody looked to have seen the princess hold his hand.  _What if someone saw that? What if Aegon saw that?_ The possibilities were not looking bright and colorful.

"So, Jon Blackscale, here you are," Aegon said to him. "We are not even two minutes into the feast, but you are already frowning as if someone punched you."  _Someone did punch me. And it hurts._

"I am a thoughtful man, my prince. I think about what may occur now or what may occur in the next few moments. Having this way of thinking saved my neck a couple of times."

"That was some smart words."

"You have to be smart to survive the way I do."

"How does it feel to be in war?" Aegon asked inquiringly, peeling an apple with a knife. "Being a prince I don't have a taste to what warfare is like."

"And I pray it stays that way under your reign when you become king. Being in war is the prime definition of getting your ass a rude awakening of what's real and what's not. It's most similar to you getting drenched in water while you are sleeping," Jon said solemnly. "War is brutal and horrible but sometimes necessary."

Aegon did not look angry at him cursing. Rather, he looked pleased with him. "Tell me what goes through your mind when you are about to be in battle."

"At my first battle, I was terrified of what was going to come about. I thought I was determined, but there was always fear inside of me that day. You know what I did, my prince? I ran from the battle. I couldn't take the dying screams anymore. Blood was everywhere."

"You ran from battle?" Viserys asked from where he was seated next to Tommen. "You were truly terrified."

"Aye, I was terrified. The Dothraki made me petrified before the battle even started. They are fierce fighters, particularly on horseback." Jon touched his scar that lay on his eye.  _Khal Drogo was a vicious cunt._

"Yet you made them run off by killing their Khal," Aegon said. "I've heard the stories many times. You have survived in the Dothraki Sea for weeks before being able to find help. You then went to aid the city of Qarth and took off Drogo's head, making everyone surrender and be made as prisoners. After that, you were made a commander and drove the Dothraki to near extinction."

Jon frowned at what the prince said. Aegon had amazement in his voice, but Jon couldn't feel proud of what he did. And there was something missing.

"All of what you said was true, but you are wrong on one of the parts."

"And what did I get wrong?" Aegon asked after taking a sip of wine.

"You are wrong about us taking the ones who surrendered as prisoners." The crown prince stilled. "Every single one of them was slaughtered on their knees. A horse's head was stitched on Khal Drogo's body and was carried down the roads as people cheered. There was no mercy for anybody." At nights when he lay in bed, he still dreamed about the raw joy that was in the people's eyes that day. There was bloodlust in their eyes as well. In war, people forget the meaning of humanity and turn into beasts. Everyone has something dark in them.

 _ **"There is a beast in**_ **_every man_ ,"** Jorah had said once.

Jon stared at his plate as the crown prince fell silent.

"We are not going to ruin the mood," Aegon announced with zeal. "It is best that we will change the subject."

"Are you going to participate in the melee or the joust? Or are you going to join both, my prince?" Jon asked. He wanted to know what his brother is like.

Aegon smiled. "I'm going to join them both, Jon Blackscale. And I have every intention of winning."

"Are you any good with a sword?"

Aegon stared at him like he was the most unintelligent man he had ever seen. "My family has the Kingsguard to protect us day and night. You must know of Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan. Those two have trained me since I was a little boy being breastfed by my mother. I must tell you that I don't have a great interest in books. I much prefer swordplay, and I am good at what I do."

"Are you not going to give me credit for your training, prince?" Jaime asked in a tone that was feigning sadness. Though, he had a smirk on his face. "What would the queen say?" The Kingsguard was standing by the prince's right shoulder. Loras was on the other side of the table.

Aegon turned around to look at Jaime with a fake scowl. "You know that my mother does not care about swordplay. If she did care, then she would say that Arthur and Barristan are miles better than you." There was a hint of a smile on his handsome face that only Jon can see.

"I don't think she would say that. I am most proficient with a sword," Jaime scoffed, shifting his weight.

"I think she would. I think so too." Aegon put his fist under his chin, eyes locked on Jamie's.

Jaime looked at the prince for a long moment. His Lannister blood showed well with his blond hair and green eyes. "You really think that, my prince?" He asked it indifferently, but Jon can hear the wanting in his voice. Jaime looked like a lion pup that wanted praise from its father.

"Come now, Ser!" Aegon smiled wide. His youthful face was stretching because of his grin. "You know that I think you are one of the best men I know when it comes to swordplay. I was just jesting. There is no reason for you to have the down face."

"I don't have the down face," Jaime muttered, moving back to where he stood to watch. The Lannister's face was somber as his green eyes watched the hall.

Aegon looked back to Jon with a grin. "I know who I am going to crown as my queen of love and beauty if I win the joust." Margaery did not react when Aegon placed a hand over her own. "It's going to be my lady wife. By chance, if you win, who are you crowning?"

"I don't know," Jon said instantly, not getting his head around it. "I'm torn on whether to choose a random lady or to just crown my damned self." Now that he thought about it, he doing that will piss off a lot of people. He wanted to see everyone's faces if he does it. The thought was amusing and entertaining. He is unpredictable.

Aegon had then started staring at him silently, drinking from his goblet. The flickering torches in the hall were seen in the prince's lilac eyes, making it more radiant. It was almost an otherworldly glow. Jon wondered as he stared back if the prince can see the same in his eyes because Jon can see his own reflection.

The prince's upper lip trembled.

The prince suddenly lurched forward, and the rich wine that was in his mouth spilled on his jerkin and onto the table. Everyone at the table turned their heads to Jon and Aegon. But the crown prince was laughing loudly, wiping his jerkin with a handkerchief. Margaery looked like she wanted to help but stopped herself.

"May I ask, brother, what do you find so amusing that you are choking on your wine as if you are in the claws of death itself?" Rhaenys asked. Aegon and everyone else chuckled politely, but Jon did not join in. He can feel that the princess was glancing at him, but he did not look up. If she wanted to get a laugh out of him, she is not going to get it.

Aegon still chuckled as he threw the handkerchief on the table and looked at his sister, face very red from laughter. "Jon Blackscale and I were just sharing laughter about what he had said to me." He started laughing again. Jon had to give a soft smile at that. His brother's laidback aura was rubbing off on him.

"What did he say?" Rhaenys sounded interested. There was something else in her voice too, something more.  _Is it eagerness?_  Jon did not think too hard on it.

Aegon ceased his laughter just enough to where he can say, "He said that he is thinking about crowning himself as the queen of love and beauty if he won!" The prince hung his head. And his whole body was trembling with laughs. "But I guess that he can because he's as pretty as a young woman!" The prince lifted his head and laughed. Viserys and Tyrion did the same but louder. Jaime guffawed from his spot behind the prince. Those who heard at the lower tables laughed too.

Around the high table was laughter. Even the Sand Snakes, Oberyn, Cersei, and Joffrey let out a snigger.

"But surely you are jesting, Snow?" Rhaenys asked him after everything settled down. "Are you seriously contemplating going to crowning yourself? Or is this one of your remarks that you are holding to yourself like what Lord Tyrion said?" Her eyes saw nothing but him.

The question was directed at him. He had to answer because she was the princess. He didn't want to but he had to. Everyone that was at the table was waiting for his reply. Aegon watched him, laughter still in his purple eyes.

"The things that I say I take seriously," Jon replied. His voice had more bite than he projected, but the anger was carefully hidden. He can bank on her reading his meanings though. She always did. "I have always been more than a lying bastard, princess." He did not look at her when he said this. He continued eating at a casual pace. After a split second of thinking, he glanced at Rhaenys.  _Do you even care?_

It was the first time he met her eyes after she visited him in his tent.

Rhaenys stared at him silently, eyebrows knit together. Her hands looked like she was about to raise her cup but stopped halfway. The others went back to eating after he responded, but Rhaenys didn't do the same. She instead opted to stare at him.

Jon stared back, trying to show how angry he was without saying a word. Rhaenys did not show a single thing on her face. No guilt or anything was seen. It annoyed him. He felt something resembling disappointment when Rhaenys turned to talk to Quentyn.  _Is this what Aegon meant about her being irritating?_

"You are not going to run wild in the melee like you are thinking," Aegon said, getting his attention back to him. The prince looked calmer and was eating again.

For the briefest of moments, Jon smirked a little. "What makes you think so?" He didn't try to hide the hint of amusement in his voice, but he did let his smirk die before the crown prince can see it.

On the double, a hand was around his mid-section and into his breeches. The small hand was inching closer to his smallclothes.  _What the hell?_ Swiftly, Jon tried to grab the hand, but it was already wrapped around his length. He clenched his teeth to not make a sound. He then glared at the offender. Arianne just smiled sweetly at him. She put her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture and stroked him.  _She is fucking crazy!_

"Even before this we have been preparing for you," Aegon answered with a smile. "Ser Arthur and Ser Jaime have been talking about you. In fact, the whole Kingsguard made plans if the rider shows to this tourney. I can't wait to see the plan flourish now that you are here."

"Everybody plans before they get smacked in the mouth." It took all of his concentration to not moan. Jon's leg twitched when Arianne touched his tip. After a couple of more shivery twitches, he tried to grab her hand. She only quickened her hand, and Jon bit his tongue to not say something.

"Are you ok, Jon Blackscale? You are sweating."

Jon forced a smile at the prince, biting the insides of his mouth. "I just find it a little warm in here, my prince." He closed his eyes tightly when Arianne started stroking harder. Her warm hands were doing pleasant things. Jon tried to get her hands away once again. This time around Arianne covered the tip and rotated her finger over it. Jon gasped softly and placed his head on the table. He did not try to make her stop this time. She would only make the situation worse, and what they are doing is going to be seen by all. Turned on by having his head down, Arianne moved her hands faster.  _This woman is insane._

"It feels cold to me. But you are from the north, where the snow blows cold. So I do understand your predicament," Aegon said, not looking at him as he spoke. He did not know what Jon was going through. He was cutting a piece of something with his knife and fork. "You will soon get used to the weather here."  _I will not get used to the people though._

The inside of Jon's length stiffened, and he squeezed his eyes as he exploded. He did the most to not make a peep as his cock went through the stage of spasm, white stuff flowing from the tip. His seed felt warm against his stomach. Jon was just worn out by the end of it. His legs were dead. He did not think he can stand.

Jon felt Arianne lean close to his ear. "You make me more soaked than a river, Jon Blackscale," She whispered warmly. "I can even say that I am more soaked than you were when I punched your ass into that lake." That sent shivers down his spine. Having Arianne whisper in his ear might look innocent to other people, but Jon knows it anything but that. The princess of Dorne is a seductress.

Arianne pulled her hand away and fixed his breeches. He can feel her ecstatic gaze on him as she turned away to talk to her cousins. Arianne was acting like she hadn't just stroked him underneath the table as he was talking to the prince.  _And she called me the bold one?_

"Are you sure that you are fine? Do you need a maester?" Jon can hear the worry in the prince's voice of tone. "Or do you need to retire?" Aegon placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Aye, I just need that last one. I need to retire," Jon answered his question. He sat back in his chair and blew his hair out of his face, watching the feast.  _You don't know how tired I am, brother._ He thought he saw Blackfish glare at him from the Tully table. He caught a glimpse of Bran and Rickon waving at him from their mother's side. Jon nodded back at them with a faint smile and glanced at Aegon.

"Before you leave to retire, do you have something to say to me in regards to the spar recently? My uncle told me you were most displeased."

"I have only one thing to say, my prince. We don't always get what we want." Jon stood from the table, trying to regain the feeling back in his legs.

"Trust me, Jon Blackscale. I know."


	18. Chapter 18

**Jon**

Anything that can be heard in the forest was next to none as he stood there. He was wearing a black cape that was blowing in the wind. Tucked on his belt were Valyrian daggers. He had a strap on his back and on it was his Valyrian double-headed axe. Cannibal was resting on broken trees. And ever present, Ghost was at his side. All three of them stared at the nest that lay on the ground.

The small dragon eggs, all diverse in color, sparkled beautifully under the equally beautiful sun rays. The beams of light revealed the eggs true colors to its full extent: Red, blue, gold, black, purple, green and brown. They were seven eggs in total; seven waiting dragons to be hatched.

"They're beautiful, Cannibal," Jon whispered. "They're very marvelous."  _A dragon has no gender. They can lay eggs all they want._ Jon thought to himself. He did not assume that he will see eggs when he came to visit Cannibal, though it was not a bummer to see them.  _What am I going to do with seven dragon eggs?!_ He cannot think of anything.  _Cannibal is enough by himself._

A spike of malicious intent through the bond made Jon glance at Cannibal sharply. The dragon growled, crawling on its hind legs and forearms. Jon gasps in horror as Cannibal swallowed three of the eggs and smashed two more with his forearms. Ghost stood up and barked.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Jon bellowed, racing in front of Cannibal before he destroys the rest of the eggs. "YOU ARE KILLING YOUR CHILDREN!" The Eggs were small. Each of them can fit in his palm, so Jon picked them up and cradled them to his chest protectively. He glared at his dragon. Cannibal met his gaze with dispassion, crunching his teeth together on the eggs that he just birthed to the world.

 _He used to eat dragons._ His face grimaced in repugnance. Cannibal was known as the wild dragon that feasted on dead and newborn dragons, hence the name. Apparently, that trend is still true after years of absence.  _I should have known that he would do this._

 _Were there other dragons in Valyria that I didn't see?_ Jon couldn't help but stay on the trend of thought. Another dragon called Sheepstealer was never heard again. Some said that Nettles and Sheepstealer picked up Daemon and left to gods knows where. But there was no proof of the theory.  _Is that Dragon alive too?_

 _It doesn't matter_. Jon dismissed. He hasn't seen another dragon, so Cannibal was perhaps the only dragon in Valyria. But he has not explored much of the place. The danger there was only increasing, and Jon and Tyrion had to leave because of that.

Jon sighed and looked to the crushed eggs.  _At least I won't have to deal with seven now._ He looked down and counted the eggs that were left.  _But I still have two. I think I can deal with that._

Jon, Ghost, and Cannibal turned their heads to where they can hear muffled grunts. Darkstar wrestled against the thick rope that was securely tied to him against an even thicker tree. Jon had gagged his mouth too. Darkstar was talking too much on the ride here.

But he was curious about what he wanted to say. Jon marched over to the man, fully aware that Ghost was at his rear. He pushed the small eggs into one arm while using his free hand to yank off the cloth that was in Darkstar's mouth. Darkstar sucked in a breath now that he was no longer gagged. His normally refined hair was in shambles. There was a dark contusion on the man's temple because Jon had specifically targeted there. It was his favorite course of action. It was easy to reach and it only requires one blow to put someone to sleep.

Jon stared at the man frostily and tossed the gag on the floor. There was a warm breath against his back, and Jon knew it to be Cannibal. Ghost's hackles were raised as he unveiled his sharp-edged teeth at Darkstar. Together they stared at Darkstar in abhorrence.

"You're finally awake," Jon pronounced.

Darkstar's breaths left his body quickly as he stared at Cannibal. His arrogant eyes were now frightened ones. He looked ready to be sick. The man was spooked. Darkstar was tied sitting down, so the rest of them looked down at him.

Ghost sniffed the air and Jon did the same. The sent was strong. "Did you just piss yourself?" Jon asked, looking down at Darkstar. There was a wet spot forming on the man's breeches.

Darkstar veered his eyes back to him as if startled. The panicked man stared at him in fear as if he was a fire priestess that was about to sacrifice him in the name of R'hllor.  _Well, it does look like that way._

"Release me at once!" Jon can see the man's Adam's apple rising and falling. "I am a lord! Release me at once, bastard!"

"You shouldn't call a man that is confining you a bastard, my lord," Jon replied idly. "You are supposed to be silent and respectful at all times. Didn't your maester teach you this?"

"Release me!" Darkstar screeched at him. He was quickly silenced by Ghosts deep growl that emerged in his throat.

"You had no guards and no friends to protect you," Jon instead said. "I almost felt bad for you when I hit you on the head."

"You are a coward!" Darstar shrieked. "You took me by surprise!"

"There is a difference between being a coward and being smart. A coward wouldn't have done what I've done. They wouldn't have the courage to do so. I call what I did smart. You think I was about to give you a fair fight in a castle that's full of people?" And his wounds still hindered him. If he would've fought Gerold, they would be completely even.

"All you Northerners are cowards!"

"Do you know why you are here?" Jon cut in. He did not want to hear a rant about his people. He did not bring Darkstar for that.

"No, I don't!" Darkstar denied. "Release me now, Northern bastard!"

His denial angered him. Jon took a small step towards him. "But I do know why." He squatted in front of Darkstar and looked him in the eye. He dug his finger in the man's chest. "One of the men that attacked me said that a friend told him where I was." Jon formed his finger into a fist and used his knuckles to push. Darkstar grunted and writhed in pain.

"What about it?" Darkstar hissed through the ordeal.

"The friend that told him was you." He forced his fist in his chest harder. "I almost died because of you."

"I don't know what you are talking about!" Darkstar shouted out, swerving his head to the left and to the right in agony.

"Yes, you do," Jon replied icily.

Darkstar screamed loud and then shook his head in yes, eyes closed. "Yes! I did it! I am the one who told him where you were! Just stop hurting me! Stop hurting me now!"

 _Are you serious?_  Jon pulled his fist back, staring at the man in shock.  _That was easy. And did he think that telling me the truth is going to get him out of this safely? He is a fool._

"I told you the truth. Now let me go," Darkstar murmured helplessly. There were tears in his eyes that wanted to fall.

Jon just shook his head in no.

"WHY!" Darkstar hollered to the sky. The man then broke down sobbing with his head down. His cries were ugly and loud.

"Why?" Jon's cool face altered into a scowl. He stood up and grabbed a fistful of Darstar's hair firmly. He manipulated his wrist until Darkstar was looking at him with his tear-streaked face. "You almost killed me. And that's not even the worst part. My friend and my  **brother**  was there too, you fucker."

The anger in his chest reared its ugly head as Jon glared at Darkstar's face. He squeezed his hand, and Darkstar yelled. Jon had a dream that Robb died that night. Having seen his cousin's bloodied face drove his anger to new heights. Darkstar is going to be punished.

"I don't like it when my family is in danger. I hate it." His voice was low, but it didn't mean it was less dangerous. "Robb said that he had a scratch on his arm from that battle, and I  **hate**  it. My family means the world to me. And you tried to take one of them away from me…" His voice was shaking with anger and so was his fist. His eyes were fuzzy from his furious tears. Aside from Ghost and Cannibal, the Starks were the only thing he has.

Ghost snarled at Darkstar. The wolf got in the man's face and growled with his mouth wide. Hot and sticky saliva splashed on Darkstar's head and traveled down to his nose. Ghost snapped his jaws, and Darkstar whimpered. The fearful man had his eyes closed. His snot was clear to see from his nose. And his tears still flowed like a river.

"Ghost, down." Jon put his hand on the animal's fur as if it was the only thing holding him back. It probably was. Ghost snapped at Darkstar one more time before backing off.

Jon watched Darkstar unemotionally as he grabbed his axe from its strap. His angry tears have dried over as he glared at the trembling man. His hot rage transformed into a cold one. He knelt down and gently placed his axe on Darkstar's forehead.

"You've truly pissed me off, Darkstar. I warned you to not hurt my family," Jon said softly, slightly leaning his axe forward. The man's skin parted easily. The blood from the forehead spilled and mixed with Darkstar's tears. The man screamed again as the blood joined together as one in his eyes. "You've pissed me off for the last time…"

Darkstar gaped as Jon stood up and placed his axe in the strap. His wide eyes then turned to Cannibal, who was still staring at him with a hungry desire. Jon watched frigidly as the man shivered underneath the dragon's gaze.

"Are you going to have him eat me?" Darkstar asked with a loud sob. He almost sounded like he was choking on his own words. Or perhaps he had bit his tongue because there was blood in his mouth.

"No, I am not. He is not going to burn you either." At his mental prod, Cannibal roared and took off into the skies. Trees bent, and leaves wove in the air as the dragon beat his enormous wings. Cannibal disappeared into the puffy clouds, but Jon can still see his large shadow

Jon watched as Darkstar breathed in relief. "I'm not going to kill you, but you are going to die." Darkstar tears came anew as Jon slashed through his hopes. "I love my family. You tried to have me and Robb killed. I can't let this stand."

He walked over and put the cloth back in Darkstar's screaming mouth. "You are going to stay tied to this tree. Whether it is a moon, whether it is days, whether it is hours, you are going to die from starvation or from nature." He gazed at Darkstar coolly. "And you are going to die all alone. I won't remember you Darkstar, but I am going to be the only person you will remember before your ultimate death. Before you wither away on this tree, I want you to regret about ever messing with my family."

Darkstar's suppressed cries followed him as he swung astride on Ghost smoothly. Jon felt no turmoil of any kind as Ghost raced through the forest. He will protect his family.  _No matter the cost._

….

It took a while for his dark mood to vanish. And it was in his new room that Jon held the two eggs. One of them had sky blue scales and the other had rich gold scales; it looked like a golden dragon. The two eggs were warm against his calloused hands. He can feel the life in them. He can feel them moving. He can feel the raw energy.

 _They're smaller than I thought they would be._ Jon thought. But then again, Cannibal was not a normal dragon. Maesters in the citadel claimed that his dragon came from a different lineage of dragons all together. It explains why Cannibal is antagonists to other dragons.

_But Cannibal is fucking big. I have no doubt that these dragons will grow as large as he in time. Will they be as wild as he?_

Ghost sat on his bed, watching him. His bags were right next to the Direwolf. No one will try to steal them. No one will try to be near the Direwolf. If someone was lucky enough to get one of them, Jon can just easily track that person down. He can sense Valyrian steel after all.

Jon walked over to the warm hearth and placed the eggs on the burning wood. He grabbed a chair and sat in front of the fireplace, staring at the flickering flames with his lilac eyes.

 _What am I going to do with them?_ Jon mused, eyeing the two eggs in frustration. He can't raise two dragons by himself. He has to look after Cannibal. That dragon is too wild and too defiant.

 _I'm not going to let them die. And I am not going to let Cannibal eat them._  Jon thought earnestly.  _What am I going to do?_

He then thought of the feast last night. He thought about how carefree and talkative the prince was. He thought about the character of his brother.  _Can I give the eggs to Aegon?_  His brother was not power-hungry, nor was he an asshole. He is sure that Aegon will not abuse the power that is going to be passed on to him. Jon grew more convinced the more he thought about it.  _I will bring dragons back to house Targaryen._  His father's side of the family will be invincible with two dragons on their side. Aegon is going to be the key to their houses succession, and he is going to be the one to choose who the other person is going to have the other egg within the family. It was his right as the future king of Westeros.

"That settles it then." Jon got to his feet after giving the eggs one last glance.  _I'll give the eggs to Aegon._

He glanced at Ghost. "Be a good pal and make sure nobody comes into this room." He headed towards the door. "And I think you are getting fat. You should get off the bed and move around more."

He can bet on his life that Ghost glared at him.

When he left the room, he wandered throughout the castle. His feet had a mine of its own as he went in no particular direction. The more he walked, the emptier the halls became. Jon stopped his feet when he saw Tommen in the hallway. The boy was alone. Tommen did not see him as he looked around tentatively. He had a strong fear on his face. He opened a door and went through it, shutting it behind him delicately.

 _What is he doing?_ Becoming more curious, Jon walked to the door that the boy just opened and walked through, shutting the door after. He walked up to the narrow staircase, keeping the sound of Tommen's footsteps in his head. The walk up the staircase ended and so did the boy's footsteps.

There was a door that wasn't closed fully, and Jon slipped through the gap furtively. He frowned at what he saw. Tommen was in a corner sitting down, arms around his knees. Jon can hear his weak cries.

Seeing the sweet boy in such a state did not sit well with him. "Are you hurt, your highness?" Jon asked out loud. "Do you need any assistance?"

He called out as silently as he could, but Tommen cried out. The boy hiccupped and stuffed his head in his lap and yelled, "Leave me alone, Joffrey! Please leave me be! It's not my fault!" Tommen got up and ran into the other corner of the room, arms in front of his face as if he was about to get attacked by a wild animal.

"I'm not Joffrey," Jon told him.

Tommen broke his crying, slowly looking up from his arms. "Jon Snow?" He asked timidly, but Jon can hear the relief in his voice. It made his frown more developed. What can make the boy this jumpy?

"Yes, it's me." Jon looked at the boy more closely. "What is the matter? Why are you here crying?"  _What are you doing in this room in the first place? Why did you think I was Joffrey?_

Tommen did not look at him. He chose to stare at the wall, green eyes a well of tears. He looked like he was trying to bring his breathing to its normal sort.

"You can tell me. I can keep secrets."

Tommen was slow to raise his head. "Joffrey told me I can't tell anyone." His eyes were vacant of anything, save for his tears.  _What is Joffrey doing to him?_

"Why would he tell you that?" Jon questioned. He narrowed his eyes because Tommen looked back at the wall, unresponsive.

"I'm not letting you leave until you tell me what's going on. You're crying for a reason, your highness. Your health is my concern," Jon explained.

Tommen looked at him then, big eyes so unsure. "Will you promise you won't tell anyone?"

"I promise." Jon nodded his head at the Targaryen. "You have my word."

Tommen cleaned his face with his sleeve. He removed himself from the wall and looked at him. "I came here to get away from Joffrey."  _Now, this all makes sense._

"Why are you trying to get away from him?"

Tommen swallowed, tears coming back quickly. "He came to my room and yelled at me about me being the one to hold your sword and not him." He looked like he wanted to say something more.  _Why does everything happen because of me?_

"You're not telling me everything," Jon stated gently. "Did he hit you?"

Tommen sniffed and nodded his head quickly.

Jon pressed his lips together at his unspoken confession.  _He looks like he hasn't been touched._ Jon thought, looking the boy over. His eyes widen as he looked at the boy's jerkin.

"Unbutton your jerkin," Jon ordered, eyes fixed on the garment.

Tommen looked back at him, eyes blurry with more tears.

"Unbutton your jerkin, Tommen," Jon told him again, softer this time with his words. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm not Joffrey."

Tommen looked like he trusted him as he unbuttoned the jerkin. It was a slow thing, but Jon eventually saw his chest. The boy's stomach was a little chubby. It hinted that Tommen spent more time eating sweets than spending time in the yard. But on his stomach were so many black and blue bruises that it almost covered his chest and stomach.

Jon became still, and Tommen stirred uneasily. The silence lengthened.

"Does he hit you often?" Jon inquired lowly. He already knew the answer from what he saw, but he wanted to hear the boy admit it from his own mouth.

Tommen nodded as fast as the last time he did it. "He…he…comes to my room every day when my father and mother are sleeping. He pushes me and kicks me when I am in bed."

"Why don't you inform your father of what Joffrey is doing?"

Tommen looked to the ground, ashamed. "Mother wouldn't consider that Joffrey is hurting me. He was always her favorite child." There was bitterness that Jon can hear well.  _Bitch Cersei probably pays more attention to the bitch Joffrey more than him._  The two of them have now earned his ire.

"What about your father?"

"I don't want to tell him that Joffrey is hurting me. It will disappoint him that I don't fight back. I don't want to disappoint my father." Stubbornness sparked in Tommen's eye, and he looked like his father.

"Why don't you fight back?" Jon questioned. "I take it that you don't like getting beat up by your brother."

"I can't do anything!" Tommen shouted suddenly. He turned around and punched the wall with his small fist. The boy cried in despair as he pounded away at the cold wall. "I can't do anything! He is older than me! Whenever I tell him to stop he hits me harder! I can't make him stop!" He kicked out with his leg. Tears of humiliation came from the corners of each eye.

Jon treads towards the boy and grabbed Tommen by the wrist before he can damage his hand. The boy hung in his grasp, crestfallen.

He looked down at him without a sound. Staring down at his feet, Tommen's face was crimson.

Jon said, "Age won't matter anymore." Tommen looked up at him in confusion, and Jon smiled at him. "I won't let Joffrey get the better of you again." He let go of his hand.

"You're going to train me?" Tommen's voice was full of hope and full of willpower. He stood up to his full height and stared at him in the eye.

Jon looked down at him then. He knew his lilac eyes were glittering with ambition when he said, "I'm not just going to train you, your highness. I'm going to make you a dragon."  _And a fierce dragon you will be. I'll make sure of that. Never again will you submit to anyone else._

….

"What am I going to say when I come back?" Tommen questioned as they walked outside of the castle, blunted swords in hand. They were heading to where nobody can spot them after getting the swords from the yard. "I mean…I did leave the castle without saying anything." Tommen was nervous. It showed on his young face.

"And you were all alone in the castle without saying anything either," Jon returned, stopping his walk. Tommen went crimson. "Simply say that you are out playing somewhere. You can't get in trouble for that." Tommen nodded.

Jon turned towards him, sword at his side. "Let us begin. Show me of what you have learned already."

"Don't we have to wear something on our person first?" Tommen protested feebly. "One of us is going to be harmed."

"If you something to say, say it with a strong voice," Jon remarked. "Let your voice be heard so everyone can hear you. Speak your words confidently, Tommen. Did you ever hear a dragon mumble before?"

Tommen smiled and shook his head. "No. Dragons roar." He looked at his sword and back to him.

"I'm not going to be as lax as your father when it comes to your training," Jon told him. "I may be a little harsh at times. But all of this is going to help you get better. Ignore the pain when I strike you too hard. It sounds brutal, but I know what I am doing. Don't think that I am being an asshole by not having you wear anything."

"I understand, Jon Blackscale."

"Call me Jon for now on. Blackscale is a mouthful to say."

Tommen looked ready to start swinging his sword.

"Put down the sword," Jon said, making Tommen blink stupidly. "We will spar after you run a couple of laps. You said that Joffrey pushes you around because he is older than you. It will be in your best interest to be in good shape and get muscle." He hid his smirk as Tommen frowned.

Obediently, Tommen dropped the blunted sword and began jogging. Jon watched him from afar, arms crossed over his chest.

When Tommen was done with his jog, they sparred. And after they've spared, Tommen went back to the castle, sweaty but smiling for everyone to see.

….

It was a while later when Jon came back to his room, and Robb was already there sitting in his chair. The Stark was watching the hearth, absorbed by the two eggs on the burning wood.

"I told you to not let anyone enter," Jon said to Ghost, closing the door.

Ghost gave him a dismissive look and closed his eyes. Jon scratched him by the ear and went over to Robb's side, watching the eggs. The two said no words but just stared at the hearth. A comfortable silence fell between them.

"Tell me that they aren't beautiful, Robb," Jon murmured, not wanting to ruin the serene moment. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"I don't think I have ever seen such a sight like this," Robb replied lowly, the image of the fire in his blue eyes. "Cannibal is the only sight that I know of that can match this."

"Cannibal laid the eggs when I came to visit him," Jon explained. "There were more eggs, but Cannibal crushed them or ate them."

Robb looked at him, shock apparent on his pale face. "Are you jesting?"

"I am not jesting. He would've killed the rest if I hadn't stopped him."

The shock that was on Robb's face was melting away. "He is named Cannibal for a reason." Robb looked back to the eggs. "The dragon has eaten other dragons in the past."

"I should have thought of this sooner," Jon lamented. "There could've been seven dragon eggs in total in this very room."

"Then how would you take care of seven dragons?" Robb questioned. "It was an atrocious thing that Cannibal did, but now you only have to worry about two eggs."

"Aye, I have two eggs. But I will still lose sleep over them," Jon replied.

"Do you have any knowledge on how to hatch them?"

"Fire and blood," Jon said shortly. He saw Robb eyeing him. "I know what happened the last time someone tried to hatch them, Robb. I have an idea that is not related to using sorcery." King Aegon V Targaryen and his heir tired to hatch the eggs the wrong way and died for it. Jon was not going to make the hatching the tragedy of Harrenhall.

"I know that you are not going to use sorcery. And I know that you are not going to keep the eggs." Robb did not look at him as he said that.  _It's scary how you know me so well._

"I'm going to give the eggs to Prince Aegon," Jon replied, glancing from the corner of his eye. "The eggs will be in good hands."

"The Targaryens are going to have no conflict with two dragons," Robb said, voice oddly low. There was something bothering him throughout the conversation. Robb usually chattered away at any chance he got. He did not do that here.

"Aye, no one will challenge them." Jon stared at the Stark. "You have something to say. Speak now, Robb."

"I do have something to say but not here." Robb ran a hand over his wary face, eyes running around the room as if a spy was in this very room. "Come with me." He stood up and moved for the door.

Jon frowned but stood as well.  _Why are you so tense, brother?_

Robb moved through the doorframe, and Jon began to close the door. "Don't let anyone in this room, Ghost. I mean it this time." Ghost jumped from the bed and sat on the floor, slightly tense.

Jon nodded his head and closed the door

**Aegon**

Rhaenys watched him intently as he played the high harp. His sister sat at the table, half-eaten breakfast in front of her. Mya sat to her right, eating her foot but listening all the same. The air was warm as his soft song weaved in the room.

Aegon ran his hands lightly over the strings. His moving head coincided with the thrum of the string. He tapped his foot for rhythm as he played the instrument.

It was not one of the heartbreaking songs that his father is fond of. Aegon didn't like sad songs. He didn't like to weep either over the mournful things his father invents with unbelievable ease. Rhaenys and his mother told him that they don't mind listening to father, but Aegon does not want to be sad. He wants to look at the good things. The song he is playing was a soft one. A song that is not depressing or joyful. He somehow found a bottom line in between. He was proud of that.

Aegon stopped playing, and Rhaenys smiled a sisterly smile. "You are improving, Egg," She complimented, pride in her voice. She picked up her fork and started eating.

It was his sister's pride that made him smile a bright one. Rhaenys was a good sibling to have. He would still rather be the older of the two of them, but he couldn't change that. He didn't think he even wanted to. Other than going to Viserys, Rhaenys was the person he wanted to get advice from. He missed her when she went off to Dorne.

"I am improving. But father's talent with the harp is something that I cannot reach," Aegon said, taking a seat at the table. "It feels like I am trying to lift up a boulder." The way his father plays makes people want to burn what they hear into their brains. Aegon wanted to have people do the same with him, but he has distrust with his ability.

"Anything is possible. There is a chance that you can eclipse his talent." Rhaenys paused, a playful look in her brown eye. "Anything can be done except for lifting a boulder. You will break your arms. Father can't even do that." Aegon chuckled at her jest as he poured himself some wine.

"Did you like it, Mya?" Rhaenys asked her handmaid, eyes set on the breakfast that lay before her. She looked like she was determined to abolish the food. "Do you like what he did?"

"I did," Mya replied, glancing at the harp. "It was beautiful to hear, my prince."

"It's Aegon, Mya," Rhaenys chided calmly. "You can call my brother Aegon. There is no one else but us three." Mya just nodded and went back to her usual silence.

That is one of the traits that Aegon likes about his older sister. She never looks down on anybody unless they in some way displeased her. When they were little children, Rhaenys treated Mya like one of their own. She practically fought anyone who insulted the bastard. Aegon had made fun of Mya once, and Rhaenys had hit him for it. At once, Aegon cried and ran to his father and mother. It turned out to be his own undoing because his mother slapped him on the wrist. And his father sentenced him to a two-day punishment in his room. He never said a single slight to Mya again.

"If father participates in the singing competition, you have a good chance of winning it," Rhaenys said, looking at the bacon in her hand before putting it in her mouth.

 _I don't think so, sister._ "What about you, Rhae? You have a nice voice as well." His sister's voice was nice to hear day by day. Rhaenys played a song one time, and Aegon did not doubt that she can hold her own in the competition.

Rhaenys shook her head and smirked at him. "I may sit out. It will be hilarious to hear other people's horrible singing. It will even be more hilarious when they are going to be drunk."

"Of course you will find that hilarious," Aegon said with a laugh. He had a brief thought of Tyrion singing drunk and laughed harder. He calmed down and said, "But it's not just father that I am worried about. It's also Jon Blackscale that I have to watch out for."

Rhaenys's smirk left so quickly that Aegon nearly thought it wasn't there in the first place. The olive-skinned woman looked away from him and started picking at her food. "Yes, I can see that." Mya looked up and stared at the princess. Rhaenys glanced at the handmaid and went back to her plate.

_Don't do this now, Rhae. Don't change moods on me again. You had a nice streak going on._

"I have to be watchful of him in every competition. He is very skilled," Aegon remarked, eyeing his sister over the rim of his goblet.

"Hmmm."

"What are your thoughts about Jon Blackscale?" Aegon said, not satisfied with her curt response. He was never content unless he gets something he wants. Rhaenys was exactly the same.

There was a sort of bitter smile on his sister's face. But it disappeared as quickly as it came. "He is a good lad." Rhaenys now had a slight frown.

 _What is with you, sister?_ Aegon thought to himself. He wanted to talk to his sister for some time. That's why he invited her to eat with him. "Mya, can you please give us a minute?" Aegon asked courteously.

Mya nodded and got to her feet. Rhaenys did not look up as her handmaid left the room. In spite of the silence in the room, Rhaenys did not remove her gaze from her food.

"We need to talk, Rhae." Aegon puts his hand on his sister's hand. "And we need to do it straight away.

Sometime later, Rhaenys looked up and intertwined her fingers together, meeting his stare. "What is this about, little brother?"

She was giving him that look again. That look meant that she does not want to hear what he had to say and that she wanted him to be quiet. Rhaenys does not shout to get people to do what she wants. She just gives them that stare and that will be the end of it, case closed. Aegon hates that look. It makes him feel inferior. And he was the crown prince! He always tries his hardest to not take the stare into account. It makes him feel more confident and drives Rhaenys into a fit of quiet anger. But he didn't want to make her angry, not now. He does not want to deal with an angry Rhaenys.

"You have not been yourself," Aegon told her. "You don't talk to anybody if it involves more than five sentences, and you've locked yourself in your room."

"And how is it a problem? No one is being harmed or killed. Everything seems to be well to me."  _It annoys me when you try to be so damn difficult, Rhae._

"Not everything is as fine as you try to think." Aegon narrowed his eyes. "What you are doing is not just for a princess. Everyone is watching us, allies and old enemies. We have to act accordingly. We have to make a message to the other houses that we are the proper rulers."

Aegon slightly smiled when Rhaenys fell silent.  _Is she actually listening to me for once? Our mother will be proud of me._

He wanted to rip his hair out of the roots as Rhaenys laughed without care. "Did you come up with those words yourself, Egg? Or are you just replicating what father told you in one of the council meetings?"  _A man can only hope._

"Those words came from my mouth only," Aegon retorted, feeling that she was putting his intelligence into doubt.

Rhaenys sniggered behind her hand, and Aegon scowled. "Sure it did, brother."

"What would the Northern lords do if they think we are unjust to rule?" Aegon whispered, causing Rhaenys to stop sniggering. "We can't stop them if they want us dead, Rhae. Our armies can't do shit to theirs now. They have a  **fucking** dragon."

Aegon was glad to see that Rhaenys was now serious in the face. She took one small sip of wine and drifted her eyes back to his. "Snow will not be a part of this. He will keep his dragon back," She said slowly, staring at her hands.  _What did you just say? Am I hearing this right?_

"You don't know that." Aegon pushed his teeth together. "He is loyal to his family to a high degree. I have seen how he interacts with them." Aegon thinks that Jon Snow is a good man. But he fears what the man will do if the Northerners wanted to rebel again. There was no stopping that dragon of his.

Rhaenys turned to him. Aegon opened his mouth a little as he saw the fire that was in his sister's eyes. "Jon Snow  **is** not going to be a part of anything. He is a good lad like I said before. And you have forgotten that he saved our fucking lives," Rhaenys growled. Her pleasant voice was full of anger.

His sister looked so livid that Aegon scooted his chair from her in fear of getting punched. She can punch and slap hard. Aegon didn't want to experience any of those so early.

"I know he is a good lad. I talked with him at the feast," Aegon assured hastily, trying his damned hardest to meet Rhaenys's furious gaze. "But I am going to be king. I have to analyze all the potential threats."

"Jon Snow is not a threat to us, and he will never be one," Rhaenys countered quickly.

"How are you so certain of this?" Aegon asked cautiously.

"I know so, little brother."  _I am done fighting with you. Seven knows that I can only take so much in one day._

"You are right. Older sisters know what's best, right?" Aegon bestowed his sister with the brightest grin he can muster to cool her anger.

Rhaenys picked up her fork, not giving him a single glance or a response. Aegon wanted to thank the seven as the atmosphere of danger in the room vanished.

 _Why did she get riled up like that over Snow?_ Aegon watched his sister eat as if her body language can give him the answer that her tongue won't give.  _This happened before too. I remember. She said that I was brain fucked because I said that Snow can't match father at singing._

In the moment of foolhardiness, Aegon leaned back in his chair and asked, "Are you feeling this way because of Jon Snow?" Yes, he asked it. It was completely random, out from his brain and out from his mouth. But what can he ask to figure out what's wrong with his sister?

Rhaenys looked at him for a good long moment before closing her eyes and dropping her fork, abandoning her food entirely.

 _I am right._ Aegon thought in stunned realization. That was a bombshell.  _Snow is the problem. How does he play into this?_

His shock did not last long. "What did he do to you, sister?" He queried. His anger started to creep in his voice, and he allowed it to. He thought that Jon Snow was a good person. He had a joyous time talking to him. He thought that they had something cognate. Perhaps he was wrong.

"He did nothing, brother. He did not do anything," Rhaenys assured him. Aegon almost didn't hear because she said it so softly. Rhaenys got up from her chair.

"Where are you going?" Aegon questioned as Rhaenys walked to the door. "You didn't finish eating."

"I want to be alone. You've annoyed me, little brother," Rhaenys said easily before opening the door. Mya was there at the doorframe. Jaime was there, stationary.

"You can go back and eat now, Mya. You are released from your duties today," Rhaenys told her before walking off.

"Are you unwell, princess?" Jaime called out. Rhaenys did not answer.

Jaime shrugged his shoulder and closed the door behind him after Mya came through. The bastard of Robbert took her seat and started eating silently. Aegon followed her example. The two did not need to say anything.

Mya stood up, finished with her breakfast. She bowed and said, "May I take my leave, Aegon?"

Aegon nodded at her. "Have a good day, Mya." The handmaid left.

Alone in his thoughts, he thought of Jon Snow. He was young, even younger than him. Aegon can guess that he is seven and ten. But his eyes tell another story. Snow had the eyes of a warrior who went into thousands of battles and came out on top in every single one. He had an air of unidentified sorts around him that draw people to him. Aegon can admit that he is drawn too.

But there was something else that drawn him to Snow. The man reminded him of his father. Aegon does not know why he thinks this.  _Is it because of the way he walks or talks? Is it because of the sad look that he tries to hide in his purple eyes? Is it because he looks like he is carrying the whole weight of the world on his shoulders? Am I thinking too hard on this?_

There was one thing that sets the rider and his father apart. Jon Snow has an occasional streak of dark humor. That humor sent Aegon into a laughing fit. Aegon can say that his father is very confident. His father is a king that you don't want to cross. But Snow is even more confident. Aegon can even say that it's tipping to the boundary of arrogance.

"Jon Blackscale is special indeed," Aegon said to himself, eyes staring at nothing of significance. "He has a large Direwolf and a large dragon that can burn Kingslanding in ten minutes. I call that very special."

 _Can I see the dragon for myself? Can I touch its dark scales?_ Aegon thought to himself. He has as much of Valyrian blood as Snow. He does not see any holes in his mind. If he can touch a live breathing dragon, he will forever be happy. He can ask Jon to see the dragon if he can.

There was a knock on the door. Jaime came through and said, "Your uncle Viserys will like to speak with you, my prince."

"Let him in," Aegon told him.

Viserys strode in the room, and the door was closed again.

"Nephew," Viserys greeted with a smile, taking a seat at the table.

"Good morning, uncle," Aegon greeted back with the same smile. "Do you want something to eat? I can have a servant bring in something."

"No. I came here for a quick chat that is exceedingly important."

"Is this about Jon Blackscale?"  _What else can be that important now?_

"That is not the only thing I came here to talk about," Viserys responded. "Gerold Dayne is reported to be missing."

"He is probably riding back to Dorne," Aegon said glibly. "He has been glowering at every one since his spar with Snow. Maybe he got tired of the jests that have been thrown in his face." He has been present to hear some of the jests, and Darkstar did not like it. Aegon even laughed at some of them.

"I say good riddance. I'm not going to miss him here. And I know everyone is going to dance now that he is gone," Viserys commented. "Hell, you might see me spin some moves for no explanation."

"Uncle, we do not express joy over a lord's departure!" Aegon said loudly and laughed. Viserys laughed too. They bumped their goblets together at the joke, spilling wine on the table. They paid no mind to the mess as they tipped their heads back to drink.

"I know what you are going to say about Snow," Aegon said after the laughs were over.

"He has something that we don't have," Viserys responded. "A dragon is a very destructive thing. You don't have a need for an army to take Westeros if you have a dragon. How long do you think it would take for Snow to take Kingslanding?"

"Rhae told me that Snow will not make any move towards us."

"Your sister is smart, but she is probably won over by his looks," Viserys told him. "Will Snow go against us if the Starks rebel again?"  _That's what I thought too._

"My father is going to handle this when he arrives," Aegon said tiredly. "But from my point of view, Snow is going to be idle. The North may want peace."  _Am I going to keep telling myself that?_

"I'm going to leave you be. You look washed-out. We all know that you are next to useless in politics if you are not at your fullest." Viserys walked to the door and stopped, looking back at him. "But take in what I am about to say to you. We killed Rickard Stark and his heir. The North only surrendered to us because they had no other choice, but now they do have a choice. They have plenty of choices really. Make friends with Jon Snow. Make a bond with him. Spend more time with him more than anyone else. Do all of these because the North remembers. They have a lot of things to remember about our family." He then left.

_The North Remembers…_

**Jon**

He set his teeth so hard that he thought it will smash to smithereens. The light and the dark battled for supremacy as the sun began to die. The sky was smeared in a pink tent, and the mini clouds floated slowly.

The Northern lords sat on logs, watching him. Their eyes spoke volumes. It was their eyes that Jon stared back at with anger that none can see.

Robb and Catelyn sat to the side. Robb did not look at him but at the dirt, jaw moving. Greywind sat at his feet, watching the lords that gathered here.

 _He brought me here for this._ Jon looked hard at Robb, who refused to meet his gaze. His cousin led him over here so the Northern Lords can 'talk' to him to where nobody can eavesdrop on them. They were a good distance away from the camps. The thick trees can smother the loudest of the noises.

"Why am I here?" Jon asked out loud.

"You have a dragon," Great Jon remarked. "A big fucking dragon it is."

"What of it?"

"Are you are a bloody Targaryen?!" Harrion Karstark was the one who shouted.

"Don't lose your sense, my lord," Jon responded. "Why would I have lived in Winterfell if I was one of them?" Nothing was said. "But my mother has Valyrian blood." There were a few nods at his lie, believing what he said without a thought.

"That's why you are so pretty," Theon jested. The Greyjoy flinched on his log because he was glared at by everyone who attended the gathering.

"That is not funny, Greyjoy," Lord Umber growled out. The big man turned away from the stunned Theon to him. "This is bloody great that Snow has a dragon!" The other lords shouted too as they watched him.  _Don't say what I think you are about to say…_

"And why is that, my lord?" Catelyn asked respectfully but suspiciously also.  _She knows too._ Robb did not give the impression of being in the conversation. Many lords eyed his cousin for not speaking up.

"This is our time to enforce our VENGENCE!" Lord Umber leaped to his feet, hands high in the air. "We have a DRAGON! They have NOTHING! This is our time, my lords!" He shout scared many birds and energized the other Northern lords. The air was wild with excitement.

Jon watched them celebrate before saying, "You will not have vengeance."

Those five words killed the celebration faster than a sword would. All of the lords stared at him in a quiet shock, as if they were seeing him for the first time. Robb, Domeric, and Theon looked between him and the Lords nervously. Catelyn looked like she wanted to say something to intervene.

"What do you mean 'no vengeance'?" Lord Umber demanded, veins popping from his head. He rose to his full height to try to intimidate him. It was not working. It reverses it by making him heated. Jon does not ever get intimidated.

"It's exactly what it means. You will not get vengeance, my lord."

"The Targaryens burned your grandfather in wildfire! They've strangled your uncle as he watched his father's flesh thaw off his bones!" Wendel Manderly shouted.

"They've killed Robbert Baratheon, a close friend of your fathers!" Rodrik Forrester shouted.  _I don't give a fuck about Robbert._

"We don't have to kneel to them any longer!"Robbett shouted, hitting his fist on his log. Some people did the same. "They are no rulers of ours!"  _They've been your rulers before you were even born._

"Why are you not speaking?" Jorah asked over the shouting. The man's question was heard to everybody as they all looked at Jon.

All at once, each person plunged into a queer silence.

There had been an abnormal thing in his chest ever since he got here. It has been growing larger, larger, larger and larger. It did not have an end in sight.  _They are talking about my family…_

"I did not think I would ever say this about my own people." Jon laughed, having the urge to cut down all of the lords that were there. "But you all  **disgust** me," Jon said lowly, but it was not hard to perceive what he said. Instantaneously, all the lords started grumbling.

"What did you say, boy?!" Lord Umber shouted, striding towards him.

"Did I stutter?" Jon looked at the man in the face coldly. Umber made him look small. He had big arms and was wide in the shoulders. Jon only reached his chest, but he was not afraid. "All of you disgust me. I want to puke what've eaten last night. You want to use me as a weapon because you can't fight them yourself. Is Dorne right about us?"

Without ado, his words made everything quieter yet again.

Breathing loudly, Lord Umber looked down at him from his height. "Are you a southerner or a northerner, Jon  **Blackscale**?"

"I know what I am," Jon answered placidly. "But you don't know what you are. Are you a man or a coward that wants to rely on a bastard to fight his wars?"

"How dare you, boy," Lord Umber growled. "Say that again."

Robb then stood from his log. "My lord, stand down!"

"As the lady of Winterfell, I command you to sit!" Catelyn ordered loudly.

"Say it," Lord Umber said again, keeping his eyes on him. "Say it again, boy."

"You're a coward," Jon replied quickly and loudly. The lords stirred uneasily at him saying the indecent.

"THAT'S IT!" Lord Umber started for him, arms wide open.

"Lord Umber!" Robb shouted for a second time and for the last time.

Before Jon can act in response, Greywind barged into the man, snarling and barking at once. Lord Umber fell to the ground, screaming in pain.

Every person watched in silence as the big man squirmed on the floor as Greywind tore at his fingers. Jon saw Domeric grimace as they heard blood squirting.

There was one more shout from Umber before Greywind leaped off the man. There was a bloody finger in the Direwolf's mouth, which he spit on the ground. Greywind trotted over to Robb, blood on his teeth.

All eyes were on the groaning Umber as he took too much time getting back to his feet. Lord Umber looked at his missing finger, finally back on his feet. Nobody made a sound as the man looked at his hand curiously.

"I should have you hanged for attempting to attack my brother," Robb said cold-heartedly. "But doubtless the Great Umber only wanted to give him a pat on the back for me."  _A big pat on the back is what I need at this moment._

"You're Brother…"Lord Umber looked around and smiled big. "Is bloody right about me!" He turned to Jon, smiling so hard that it was stretching his face. "That wolf made a man out of me, Snow!" He laughed loud and hard, still holding his maimed hand.

The silence was broken by him. Jon started laughing first. Robb was laughing soon after. And then everybody was laughing. It was almost as if everybody has forgotten what they were shouting about. But Jon did not forget.

….

Jon left shortly after, walking in the darkness. Robb was at his side, silent as he should be. Greywind trotted behind them, keeping watch. Jon reserved his anger to himself as they tried to make it back to the castle grounds. He did not want to lash out on his cousin.

"Are you angry at me?" Of course, Robb was the one who spoke up to break the heavy air. Jon had to take a deep breath to not say something that will ruin their relationship.

"Am I angry that you've dragged me out to this place so I can get interrogated on how I should rebel against my own family without telling me what's going to happen first? No, I am not angry," Jon replied acerbically. "I am fucking furious with you." He kicked a tree branch out of the way. He wanted to kick every fucking Northern lord in the fucking face. Every single one of them looked eager to march into the castle and drag the Targaryens from out of their beds.

"I know, and I am sorry."

"Did you feel sorry that you arranged this whole fucking thing?" Jon asked. "Did you feel sorry when you thought on how I would react? Did you even think about me?"  _Were you just feeling like you had to satisfy those lords?_

"I did think about you!" Robb exclaimed, hurt in his voice. "I've always thought about you."

"I would have not been there if you thought about me." Jon glanced at Robb from behind his curls. "They wanted to rebel, Robb. They wanted to unseat my family from the throne. You should have quelled their talks."

"Look, Jon, I am still learning to be a lord," Robb replied, still sounding hurt like a wolf that got slapped over the head. "Let us just forget about this."

"The Northern lords will not forget about this. They will bring this shit right back up. Put them on a leash, Robb. If you can't do that, I will do it for you." Jon turned his back on Robb and walked away from the Stark. He did not want to say that to Robb like the way he did. But he was angry that the lords were discussing to rebel against his family as easy as talking about the fucking weather.  _I was right. Hiding my connection to Cannibal should be a secret. I wouldn't have to deal with this petty politics._

For the second time today, he cursed Darkstar. He cursed him and hoped that asshole will die a terrible death on that tree.  _Even now he is causing me more pain. He is making more problems on both sides of my family with no effort._

It was a quick walk back to his room. Ghost was still on the floor when he entered. The Direwolf huffed as it jumped back on his bed.

"You're a lazy cunt, pal." Jon petted Ghost on the head and looked to the hearth. He walked over and stared at the eggs for a moment. Subsequently, Jon moved for them. The flames did not hurt his hands as he picked up the small eggs.  _It's time to put you where you belong._

**Aegon**

He lazed around in his seat. He threw a gold dragon in the air and caught it in his palm. He did this a few times, bored out of his mind. There was no feast tonight. He ate his dinner with Mya because why not? Margaery did not want to dine with him for obvious reasons. Rhaenys was still annoyed with him. He did not know where Tyrion is. The dwarf was always in a different location with his sellswords. Cersei and Joffrey were out of the question. Viserys wanted to eat alone with Tommen. And that left the quiet but smart Mya.

"Do you think the dragon breaths wildfire?" Aegon asked randomly, sagging in his seat in a very unlike manner of a prince. "Snow's dragon I mean," He added.

"Its flames are green," Mya bluntly said. "That is a good reason why you think so. But wildfire is created by the Pyromancers."

"Well, that was a wistful thought. I don't like having men creating that type of power. It is why we have had so many cruel rulers in our history. It would have been much better if the power was originated from something that we had no hand in."

"Do you think you will be a cruel king?" Mya asked him, blue eyes inquisitive.

Aegon stopped moving after he caught the dragon again. He thought hard on the question.  _Will I be Maegar the cruel or my father?_ Sometimes he cried himself to sleep because he didn't know the answer. He was always scared of the unknown. And he is still afraid currently. He is a prince that has boots to fill when his father passed. He wanted to be the king that everyone expected him to be. But there was a little voice in his head that made him doubt.  _Will I be a good king? Will I turn mad as my grandfather did? Will I be a good husband? Will I be a good father when Margaery and I have children? Will I be a good uncle if Rhaenys settles down with somebody? Will…Will I see Dany again?_

Mya waited patiently and quietly for his answer. Aegon looked at her. "I don't know, Mya. Time can only tell. People always come up to me and say that I will be a better king than my father. But I don't believe them. They don't know the answer, nobody does. Words are just wind that can easily turn out to be false. I will give you my answer when a couple of years pass in my reign as king."

Aegon felt like a fool somehow. He felt like he let out too much. When he looked at Mya's face, he thought she will be laughing at him. But, to his enormous surprise, Mya had a nice smile on her lips.

"That was a well thought-out answer, Aegon," Mya praised, soft surprise in her blue eyes. "You do not provide those most of the time."

Aegon laughed and said, "Especially as a child. I did not think about my words before I say them. It drove everybody mad. Do you remember me saying that Rhaenys's hair had snakes in it because it was so curly?"

"Yes, I do. She went to the king and queen for that," Mya said with a small laugh.

"She actually told them?" Aegon asked her. Mya simply nodded. He laughed harder.  _I did not know that. I'm defiantly going to tell Rhae of this._

"She told me that she stole your ring in retaliation."

"What did you say?" Aegon sat up in his chair, eyes trying to stab Mya where she sat. "I've been looking for that damned ring for  **years**." It was a small ring. It was not as stylish as the rings that Margaery wore, but it was his fucking ring. His mother had a box of items that she wanted to give to him and Rhaenys. He picked out that ring and instantly fell in love with it. He wore the ring almost every day. He bathed with it on. He ate with it on. And he played with it on. Everyone in the family knew that he was uncharacteristically attached to that ring. He even gave the ring a name for fuck's sake! On the day he noticed that Dragonfly was gone, he ran in the middle of a council room session for his father. It did not go well…

"Where is she keeping it?" Aegon asked in a rush.

There was an amused smirk on Mya's face. "It's on her finger. She wore it every day for the past years, waiting for you to say something about it."

 _Didn't I hold her hand today?_ Aegon feels like an idiot. His precious Dragonfly had been in plain sight for all these years. He did not think to look at his sister's hands. Aegon did not think it was important to look at them. It was just hands to him.

"And she stole Dragonfly from me because I said that her hair looked like snakes? She wasn't supposed to take that so seriously!"

Mya looked confused. "I don't know anything about a Dragonfly. I don't think that's a word. Did you mean to say the ring?"

 _I said that out loud. I did not intend for her to hear that._ Aegon's cheeks heated up."Yes, I meant to say the ring."

Aegon and Mya turned their heads around when Jaime, not bothering to knock this time, entered the room.

"Jon Snow wants to see you, my prince," Jaime told him. There was a rather shocking feel sticking to his person. The Lannister's eyes were wide. The grip on his hilt was light as if he couldn't find the strength to grip it harder. "And he has something that you might find in-"

"Did the prince give me permission to enter yet?" Jon called out from the other side of the doorframe.

"No, he didn't," Jaime snapped back. "He can have you waiting all night if he wants too. Show some respect." The man did not take it seriously at all. Anybody who heard will immediately claim that he was jesting.

Aegon heard something shuffle from where Jon was. And the rider spoke back, "On the prince's orders then, Ser."

"That's enough jesting, Jaime. He can come now," Aegon declared.

Jaime opened the door and stood there. Aegon's interest magnified because the Kingsguard looked like he was blown away to another world, even when he said that what he saw something will blow  **him** away.

"You are standing in the way, Lannister," Aegon heard Jon say.

"I think I know that," Jaime retorted, moving out through the doorway. Taking Jaime's spot was Jon Snow. In his hands was something that made him start blinking really fast.

The door closed with a click that ricochets off the walls of the room. It was the last thing of anything familiar to something called sound.

After a considerable amount of time, Mya was the one that said, "Bless the seven…are those dragon eggs?"

"They are dragon eggs," Jon confirmed, holding the blue and gold eggs in the palm of his pale hands. He drifted his eyes to him. It was lilac eyes meeting lilac eyes. "I think you know why I brought this, my prince."  _I do. I do. I very much do._

"No more being courteous," Aegon said in a husky voice. His throat felt like it was clogged. His tongue suddenly felt less moist. "No more of you being courteous when we are alone, Jon."

"Yes, no more being courteous, Aegon." Aegon probably shouldn't have but he felt comforted with that.

"Bring them closer," Aegon said, slowly waving his hand over. He had to confess that he paid more attention to the golden egg more than the blue one.

"I'm going to do more than that. I'll hand them to you," Jon replied. Aegon's heart skipped a beat when Jon started walking towards him.

Time seemed to have slowed down as Jon got closer, closer, closer, and closer. Time had slowed but the noise didn't. Each of Jon's footsteps was louder. His boots were heavier on the floor but looked unerringly as it was before. Aegon's belief in magic was meager, but did he see the golden egg glow for a second?  _Is this all a dream?_

If this was a dream, he did not want it to ever end. This was the best dream he had ever had.

There was something warm on his hands. They were very warm, close to very hot. Aegon stared unseeingly at the golden egg. It was the one that he saw, not the blue one.

In some way knowing that he cares nothing about the blue one, Jon grabbed it with care. There was a relative silence between them.

"I think you have chosen your dragon. Who gets the other one?" Jon asked. "Who gets to be a rider beside you?"

"My sister gets it," Aegon said automatically. His thumb tenderly strokes the golden scales. "What I get, she gets too. We are siblings. We always share. This is something that I want her to have as well. I know that she will not like being left out on this." There was a clear image of him and Rhaenys on dragons, soaring through the clouds.  _That will be a sight for sure._

"Are these eggs from your dragon?" Mya asked.

"Yes," Jon said shortly.

"How do you hatch them?" Aegon beamed at his egg, very proud for some reason.  _Dragons are coming back to us, house Targaryen._

"It's your own motto," Jon answered. "You have to use fire and blood."

Aegon shot his head up sharply. "What fire and blood are you telling me? The last time my house used those it turned out to be a scorching tragedy."

"They used sorcery," Was Jon's calm answer. "I don't use them in the slightest. All you have to do is to get a speck of your blood and some fire."  _Is it that easy?_

"I extract some of my blood, smear it on the egg, and put the egg on the hearth?" He wanted the highest of vivification. It sounded too simple to be true.

"That's all you have to do." Jon picked up a knife from the table and passed it to him. "I have a theory on why house Targaryen was unsuccessful in their last endeavor to hatch the dragons."

Knife in hand, Aegon looked at the rider. "And that is?"

"They had fire and blood," Jon said, face solemn. "But they were not worthy of hatching them. I think every egg is destined to belong to someone. If that person is not there or is dead, the eggs turn to stone."

 _That is very plausible._ "What if I am not worthy?" Aegon looked down at the golden egg. He will be devastated if he wasn't. The egg felt like it belonged to him already. "What if it is someone else in my family?"

Jon's mask cracked and a smile came through. "Then we will see, Aegon." He looked at the hearth and back to him, the message clear.

Having no hesitation, Aegon sliced at his index finger and grimaced. There were a sting and some blood. He put his finger on the egg and smudged it on the scales. It hurt, but he was too indomitable at the moment to be defeated by pain. Then he stood up, egg on the other hand.

It was in great bliss that he situates the egg in the hearth and watched the flames tickle it. "Why do I do now?" He asked it out loud, but it was bound for Jon Snow.

"Wait."  _I shall wait to see if I am worthy to be a dragon rider. Rhae will do the same._

Jon went on, "The princess will be most thrilled when you give the egg to her." Aegon and Mya turned their heads to him. "I must take my leave."

"Perhaps you should give her the eggs personally," Mya recommended.

Aegon's thought of Snow having a problem with his sister retakes a spot in his mind because of the handmaid's suggestion.  _What did he say or do to her? Or did she do something to him? Should they resolve their problems by their selves? Should I step in? No, I will stay out of it. My sister's business is her business, not mine._

"She is correct," Aegon found himself saying. "It will be a disservice if you are not there to hand her what you are offering."

"You are her brother," Jon retorted at once.  _Is he trying to avoid what I am saying?_

"And you mean to give her a dragon egg," Aegon countered fluently. "You have given me the honor of presenting one of the eggs to me. Why can't you do the same for your princess?"

He had the man there. Aegon watched Jon frown for a quick second before the mask retook his face. "I will give the egg to her." Jon nodded once, only once. The rider walked out of the room before Aegon can show his appreciation.  _Maybe he didn't want me to thank him._

Aegon and Mya sat there, staring at the golden egg. The only thought that was going through his mind as he stared at the shimmering scales was  _you are not a threat Jon, never have been._

**Rhaenys**

_I am losing him._ That was the only thought that was in her mind since the meal she shared with her brother. Aegon had unintentionally brought up the headache that she had been trying to stuff in the back of her mind. What was the headache exactly? It was her losing Jon Snow. It was the young man that she was or  **is**  terribly attracted to.  _Why must to I care that he is ignoring me?_

The truth was that she did not like being disregarded, especially by someone who she wanted to see her. She likes to wear a swank dress but not too much as Maegary does. She knows that she was beautiful, but she doesn't show boast about it her looks like Arianne does. However, she was still a woman nevertheless. It was nice to see people being aware of who she is. Jon Snow was pretending that there was nothing between them anymore and that she didn't exist. She ought to do the same.

 _He sat next to Arianne instead of me._  Rhaenys tried not to growl in her pillow. She risked everything, including her image as a princess, to get him to sit with her at the high table so they can talk it out. And she damaged her pride most of all. She resorted to grabbing his hand in plain sight, and he  **walked**  away. Rhaenys was humiliated by him. She never felt so angry in her life whilst she saw Arianne whisper in his ear as if they were fucking lovers!

Here she was, under her blankets, in her sleeping attire, gripping her pillow, trying so hard to not think of him but failing painfully.  _If he wants to play this fucking game, then I will play this fucking game too._ Rhaenys thought in fortitude, narrowing her eyes. She was a princess, the daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. She was not going to cry over the boy. She is going to sit and watch the boy come crawling back to her. Then everything will go back to how it used to be.

She closed her eyes, getting ready to have a restlessness sleep. A soft knock on the door made her eyes open in annoyance.  _I'm not going to amuse you if that is you behind the door, Aegon._

She acquired a robe from a chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. Now looking moderately presentable, Rhaenys padded to the door. She opened it and looked down the hallway, deeming it empty.  _Is this some type of joke?_ Rhaenys furiously thought in her head, nose flaring. Offering Loras with some time off from his duties was perhaps a misshape.  _Is this Aegon's doing?_

If it was, then she doesn't feel remotely amused by it. More than a little annoyed that someone disrupted her sleep, Rhaenys stepped back to close the door. Before she did, however, she saw a bundled cloth on the ground that was of black color. She can see that it was covering something. Atop of the cloth was an even smaller note. Curious now, Rhaenys gathered the cloth and went back to her room, closing the door.

Putting the note to the side, Rhaenys sat on her bed and used her fingers to remove the fabric from the object. It was beyond easy to remove the cloth, but Rhaenys found it hard to breathe as she gazed upon what was revealed. Very hesitantly, she grasped the egg with her trembling hands, as if it would disappear if she wasn't careful enough. The egg was gratifyingly warm.  _I've always had a soft spot for blue._ Rhaenys thought to herself, aloof. She saw the hard blue scales.

 _This has to be a real dragon egg._ Rhaenys thought resolutely. Her fingers played with the blue scales.

 _Who would give this to me? Whoever this person is, I will kiss him or her on the cheek._ She arrived at the conclusion that the note will have what she seeks. She grabbed the note, and her reading commenced.

_"I have given a dragon egg to the prince, and he wanted you to have one as well. To hatch the eggs, draw some of your blood and smear it on the egg and place it in your hearth. The eggs will only hatch if you are worthy of it."_

The instruction was blunt and specific enough to execute. Though, Rhaenys's mind was slow to understand because she saw the name on the bottom of the paper. Then her mind sharpened til she was filled with hot anger.  _Jon had this at my door instead of personally presenting it to me? Am I not worth his time? Does he think so little of me?_ She pushed the sadness out of her heart so she can concentrate on her newfound anger.  _I thought we had something, but you are convincing me otherwise with every second that ticks by. I will not pursue you as I have done before. You will come to me, and maybe then will I forgive you._

Rhaenys balled the paper up and threw it across the room. Then she went over to the table and took a knife. Rhaenys cut her thumb, smeared the blood on the egg, and placed it on the hearth. After watching the egg in a bout of silence, she discarded her cloak and went back under her blankets.

 _Will the dragon eggs hatch for me and Egg?_ Rhaenys massaged her leg, deep in thought.  _If mines hatch, will the dragon be as blue as the sky? Will my dragon be as big as Cannibal?_ On and on she thought about her own personal dragon. She thought that her musings were genuine, but it was only a distraction so she wouldn't think of him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Tommen**

The grass beneath his palm was soft, just how he likes it. The soil made his hands and his clothes grimy. But he didn't care much. He can wash them later.

The air was cooler than it was yesterday. The wind blew through his hair like a mother caress. Several times did his hair slapped against his face. He did not mind one bit. The change in weather was revitalizing after the workout he did with Jon Snow. They had paused in the training, so Tommen utilized what time he had to catch his breath.

He sat on his bottom, legs stretched out in front of him. Jon was in a similar pose next to him, topless. Sitting contentedly in his lap was Ser Pounce. Tommen stroked him, provoking a purr from the cat. He had other cats too, back at Dragonstone. But this one was his favorite cat. Margaery gave them to him for his name day.

Jon was currently staring at something. Tommen seized the moment by taking a glance at his toned chest. There were numerous scars; all symbolizing his struggles and his transition to a young veteran.

 _He is not afraid of people seeing it._ Tommen looked down at his jerkin, pondering. He had an abrupt urge to imitate his senior. He unbuttons his jerkin and sets it on the grass. The wind kissed his chest not too soon after.

Jon looked at him but said nothing. His amethyst eyes ran over his chest before looking away. "Is the cat yours?" He asked.

"It is. Margaery gave this to me," Tommen replied, smiling at the cat in his lap. "His name is Ser Pounce." That very cat perked its ears up at his name being called, before laying its head back down.

"Hello, Ser pounce." Jon reached over and stroked the cat. Ser Pounce jerked and hissed, biting his finger. Tommen laughed as Jon yelped. The son of Viserys patted the hissing cat on the head, watching the rider in amusement.

Jon put his finger in his mouth and glared at the cat as if it was a demon rather than a normal cat. "That cat of yours is violent."

Tommen saw the sour look on his face and giggled some more. Aegon had the same expression whenever someone said something he does not want to hear. "Ser Pounce has a tendency to bite strangers."

Jon removed his finger, but he was still scowling at his pet. "I would have preferred if you would have given me a warning."

Tommen blushed as he hangs his head down. "I'm sorry. Though, Balerion is whom you should be more wary of."

"Who the hell is Balerion?"

"He is my cousin's kitten. He is with us as well."

"I didn't think the prince likes kittens." There was a small grin on Jon's face. "I've always thought that he would rather have a larger pet."

"Balerion is Rhaenys's kitten, not Aegon's," Tommen told him.

The grin was gone. Jon schooled his face expression into one of neutrality. "Hmmm."

They went back to silence. Then Jon broke it. "Break time is over, Tom. Let's get back to work." He stood, taking his wooden sword from the grass.

Jon had taken to calling him 'Tom'. When Tommen asked why Jon simply shrugged as an answer. He didn't mind it though. He liked it. One time, he asked what he can call Jon. The rider had chuckled, patted his shoulder, and said, 'you can call me anything you want'.

Tommen just retained to calling him Jon. Calling him something else would be weird like the white wolf everyone was naming him. In his mind, Jon was just Jon. And in his mind, Jon was becoming a fast friend, if he hasn't by now. Jon was talking to him, teaching him, helping him, and for what? Why would a stranger help some brat like him?

"Why do you care?" Tommen murmured to himself, standing up. Ser Pounce glared at him but moved away.

"Did you say something?" Apparently, he had heard.

Tommen opened his mouth though no sound came out. Jon just stood there waiting with uncanny patience. He placed both hands on the pommel of the sword, tip in the dirt. The rider blinked slowly as he thrashed about in his mind to find words.

 _Say the words, stupid!_ Tommen begged in his mind. He opened his mouth again, and this time, words came out. "Why do you care so much about me?" He whispered. "Why are you doing all of this for me?"

Jon stared at him, not blinking anymore. He then sighed, leaning his weight on the sword. The man looked to the sky and smiled a mournful smile. "If only you knew, Tom…" He looked like he was thinking really hard.

"Knew what?" Tommen asked him in a childlike confusion.

Jon wheeled his eyes on him as if he just realized that he was still there. The mournful smile was gone, and for that reason, Tommen was happy. He did not like seeing Jon sad. No, he did not like seeing his  **friend**  sad.

The sad smile was gone, but to Tommen's dismay, there was sadness in the purple orbs of Jon Snow. The boy can see it so clearly. It was so visible. It made him curious about why he is so sad. And why isn't anyone pointing this out? They had to see this too, didn't they? Do they want him to stay sad? Why do they want his friend to be sad?

Jon kept those sad eyes on him and said, "I'm doing all of this because I care, Tommen. You remind me of myself when I was your age. Too many times in the past that I just rolled over and let people torment me because of my status. I didn't always have a dragon. I had to kill people, over and over again, to become the man that now stands before you. I don't want you to go through what I went through. I want you to become confident of yourself, Tommen. And I am trying to do it in a way that's easier for you because I  **care**."

Tommen's mind was still too young to fully digest the meaning behind the words, but he still understood the concept. There was something that lodged in his throat. He didn't know what it was. He just knew that he had to do something to get rid of it.

Mind made up, Tommen walked to Jon and hugged him carefully, recalling that he is still wounded. As he hugged him, he heard Jon whisper, "How does a boy treat me better than you do?"

Tommen did not comprehend with that, but he still maintained his hug.  _I have a family that loves me, but I don't have any friends. I don't want to have my only friend feel sad._

It was Jon who stepped away. The sadness in his eyes had waned somewhat. Tommen was just glad that he helped his friend.

Jon gestured to Tommen's sword with his own, not saying anything.

Thankful that whatever had happened was over, Tommen grasped his own sword and eyed Jon. He bent his knees after remembering what Jon taught him so far.  _ **"Always stay low. You'll be harder to hit."**_

Then Jon nodded, signaling to start. Tommen struck with an overhead blow, which was parried. Tommen was not to be deterred. He went high then low with his swings.

"Stay diligent to your form," Jon chastened with a frown, moving his feet on the grass constantly, "and get lower."

"I'm trying to." Tommen swung low, panting like a dog. He was getting slower and weaker, but Jon seemed to be getting faster and stronger.

They separated after the short bout of clashing.

"How can't I hit you?" Tommen gasped out. There was a layer of sweat on his chest. He was starting to get frustrated.

"I've been fighting all of my life," Jon told him grimly. "I've been fighting against the son of bitches that spit on me because I am a bastard. And I've been fighting against the cunts that want my head for gold. My life is a nonstop battle. Life wants to punch my face every time I take a breath. All I can do is to punch back."

Jon slashed his sword in a sharp arc. Tommen's legs gave out, and he crashed to the ground with a cry.

"Life is punching your ass in the form of your congenial brother." Tommen groaned in the dirt. His legs felt lame. But he was getting angry at getting reminded of what his brother does to him.

"Are you going to allow him to abuse you further?"

"No," Tommen responded weakly. "I want to fight back."

"Then stand on your feet and fight like your life depends on it."

A fire of inspiration was in his chest now, and nothing can extinguish it. Tommen jumped to his feet whilst roaring a thunderous war cry.  _I am a dragon!"_

A large smile was on Jon's face as he was on him.

….

"You did well today, Tom." Jon congratulated as they walked side by side to the castle. Tommen and he had their jerkins back on their bodies. He held Ser Pounce in his arms, stroking his fur. "You lasted longer in the spar."

Tommen was washed over by giddiness at being praised. Simply having someone giving him tribute apart from a family member was satisfying. By being a second son he was occasionally unnoticed.

"Thanks," Tommen said, trying to have a strong voice. "But will I ever be as good as you?"

"I don't know," Jon replied, carrying the two sparing swords by the handles. "It all depends on your outlook of success."

Tommen took in his words and looked up at Jon in wonder. The man was something else entirely. He trains him and says all of this cool stuff that only his father says to him. Tommen wanted to be like him. Father wouldn't mind. He speaks of the rider in high esteem. Mother and Jeffrey rave and say mean stuff about Jon. But Tommen just thinks they are jealous that Jon has a dragon and they don't.

"Are you good friends with my uncle Tyrion?"

"Yes, we are good friends. We've been through a lot of trials together."

"Trials?" Tommen asked confusedly. "My uncle never has been on trial, and I've never heard that you did either."

His confusion increased when Jon laughed, freely and loudly. Jon stopped and looked at him, his purple orbs shining. "That's not the trials that I speak of. I'm saying that Tyrion and I faced the greatest of odds."

"Oh." Tommen looked away from Jon's smile, embarrassed by his blunder. He then looked back at him. "I'm good friends with him too…You know, my uncle?"

Jon nodded, and Tommen spoke on. They walked on, shifting a conversation to the next one.

When they arrived in the walls of the castle, Jon clasped a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Don't worry about not being good enough, Tom. Hone what've taught you today and you will be better in our next meeting." Tommen nodded.

With that said, Jon went to a different direction, presumably to the training yard to put back the swords in the rack.

As Tommen stared at Jon's back, he can't help but whisper, "Why can't you be my brother?" His father and mother were not here to answer his question, so he was stuck into trying to attain the explanation himself. There has to be an answer for why he had a mean brother like Joffrey instead of Jon.

When he walked down the corridors, everyone was looking at him and at Ser Pounce weirdly.  _What do they want?_ Tommen asked in his head, cradling his cat closer to his chest. He did not like the stares. His ears were starting to burn.

One of the passersby strolled to him and asked in concern, "Did you fall down your highness?" It was a lady who asked.

Tommen blinked at the lady. "No, why?"

The lady paused. "…Your attire is dirty, your highness."

He looked down and instantly saw the problem. He was covered in grass and dirt, head to toe. And his jerkin was disheveled as if he truly fell down.

"I was out playing, my lady," Tommen said politely and sheepishly. "I took off my jerkin so I can feel the air."

The lady beamed at him. She bowed and left. However, he was still being stared at. Taking Jon's lessons in heart, Tommen held up his head and met everyone's gaze.  _I am a dragon. I will not shrink beneath any gaze._

Then he continued walking, Ser Pounce meowing in his arms.

Tommen stopped when he saw his father in the middle of the hall, staring at him. His father raised an inquiring brow. Seeing no other option, Tommen just smiled weakly at him.

His sire stared before sighing and shaking his head. He gestured for him to follow as he started walking to where he came.

Tommen sighed in relief. He did not want his father to be asking questions. Ser Pounce purred as he jogged after his father.

**Jon**

"White wolf that! Dothraki slayer that! Now Jon fucking Blackscale?" Sandor rumbled out. "These fucking idiots can't stop running their mouths about you." The man that was talking to Jon just recently scuttled to a different path, his face pale. Tyrion and Bronn shook their heads.

Tyrion raised his wineskin and exclaimed, "Our beloved Jon Snow is now a renowned hero to the people of Westeros." He lowered his arm, face smirking. "Who doesn't want to talk to this legendary man?"

"Fuck them," Sandor said gruffly, "and fuck legendary. They all just like to kiss Snow's boots like the fuckers they are. It makes me angry."

"You didn't have to scare the poor man," Bronn said with no small amount of mirth. "Your repulsive face will give him nightmares."

"Watch it," Sandor warned. Jon wondered if he will draw the Valyrian sword that he gave to him. He gifted Bronn one also.

Bronn looked behind him and to the front of him, his plain face holding a mockery of confusion. "Watch what? I don't see anything, except for sweet ladies here." The Sellsword draped an arm around a woman's shoulders. The woman shrieked and cuffed him in the face.

Jon and the others chuckled as the woman marched away in anger. Sandor laughed the hardest. The passersby that saw laughed too. Bronn shrugged indifferently, trying to play it off despite the bright red handprint on his cheek.

"Payback is a bitch," Sandor said with a disturbing grin, no doubt relishing in his small revenge.

"Eh, we can't get them all the time," Bronn said, waving a hand in the air. He then sighed. "If only you and I switched bodies, Snow. No women will resist jumping on the rider's lap." This was proven true by the coy smiles women were sending towards him like a catapult.

"Join the crew," Tyrion quipped, pointing to himself before sipping from his wineskin.

Jon said, "Why don't you use the gold that Tyrion pays you for doing nothing? No women will resist jumping in a pile of shiny dragons." Sandor laughed, making people jerk at the raspy sound.

"I already did that." Bronn sent him a deadpan look. "It gets boring after a while." He turned to Tyrion, smiling wide. "It remains exciting for you, doesn't it?"

Tyrion sipped one more time from his wineskin before saying in a controlled voice, "pardon? What do you mean about that, Bronn?"

Bronn's smile preserved its infectiousness. "Don't try to be stupid. Do you recall the wrench that I greeted you with? Isn't her name Shae? Aye, I'm sure you do remember her. For last night, I heard you two getting heated in your tent. I don't know if my ears were fucked up, but I'm pretty sure that you said, 'I want you to fuck me as if this was my last night in this world.'"

At once, with his stomach churning, Jon stopped walking to howl with laughter. Sandor leaned against a tree and cracked up as if his laughs were splitting his insides. Bronn, almost immediately, joined the laughter as well.

Jon can imagine that they looked ridiculous. He closed his eyes, smiled softly, and fingered his eyebrow, trying to tune out Sandor's deafening laughs so he couldn't laugh anymore. He couldn't brush it off, however, as Sandor reeled over.

Jon let out a soft snort. He opened his eyes, saw people staring, and then went over to the red-faced Sandor. Jon tapped the man's gray shoulder plate and said, "Stop laughing before you die."

Sandor at least looked like he took his consideration as he lowered his laughter to some extent, though he was still chuckling.

When everything soothed over, Tyrion lightly scowled at the smiling Bronn. "I told her that because I needed it. Do not bring that up again."

Bronn bowed as a teasing smirk crept on his face. "As you say, dwarf lord."

There were ludicrous looks everywhere because of that remark. Jon knew that they were taken back by a commoner insulting the master of coin in broad daylight. But he also knew that Tyrion did not give a fuck about what's expected of being respectful to a highborn.

Tyrion shrugged, and all three of them begin walking again.

The crown prince announced that he and his family were going on a hike, therefore the walk. And of course, people were flocking to the prince's footsteps as a flea would flock to the smell of fresh blood.  _It's like what I'm experiencing._ Jon thought, seeing how people were trying to find an excuse to inch closer to him. They've tried to strike up a meaningless conversation, to which he provided short answers too.  _I'm not giving them shit, and I'm not doing shit._ The attempts to talk to him have gone away as he fixed a slight scowl on his face.

The royal family was at the foremost of the party. They were the only ones privileged to ride in carriages. Jon could have a horse if he asked for one, but he didn't want to. He would not use the good favor that he had with the prince to his advantage. Appearing normal was always his way of living. Perhaps the reason why Tyrion walked too was because of Sandor and Bronn.

The party stopped. There was shouting. Jon couldn't decipher what was being yelled out. There were too many people shouting at the same time.

"What's all of this fucking fuss?" Sandor demanded to no one really.

"Let me try to hear out this mess, my friends," Gerris Drinkwater offered, appearing alongside with Daemon Sand. Jon and his group watched as the comely man cupped his hand to his ear.

"You always had ears of a rat, Gerris," Daemon jested, which Gerris pointedly sought to ignore as tried to strain his hearing.

Then Gerris removed his hand, blue eyes enlarging. "Oh, my friends…" Gerris scratched his head. "Gerold Dayne is spotted."

_Ah, shit._

**Arianne**

Her former paramour was being untied from the blasted tree by Ser Loras. Gerold's head seemed to be split from a cut, ranging from the forehead to his nose. Dried blood clung to his skin.  _It must have been a remarkable weapon to do this, a very sharp one…_

Her family and the Lannisters (She refuses to name Joffrey and Cersei as Targaryens or family of any kind. Tommen is the one who she can tolerate) Watched in deadly silence as Gerold was hoisted on a wagon. His eyes saw nothing and knew nothing. They were bloodshot as if he shed some tears before he died. There was a humongous claw mark on his chest. It was deep, almost tearing out what's inside of his chest.  _An animal got him…_

"Those marks belong to a bear's," Oberyn remarked, coming to her side. Everyone stared at him. "A gruesome death to its finest." His paramour, Ellaria Sand, shielded their children's curious eyes.

"Why…Why would someone do such a thing?" Tommen looked ready to whimper. Viserys said nothing to reassurance the boy, neither did Cersei.  _Poor boy…he is too young to be seeing this._

"You're such an imbecile!" Joffrey commented harshly. Viserys and Cersei gave him a disapproving glare. But the boy went on, "You are about to cry over somebody that you don't even know! You are no Targaryen at all!"

Arianne thought that Tommen would shy away from his brother like he always does. She knew that everyone was thinking the same. But, surprisingly, Tommen steeled his eyes and glared at him. "I'm more of a dragon than you will ever be!"

Arianne smiled in joy when Joffrey gawked at his brother for his counterwords.  _You heard him right you little shit_. To Trystane, to Aegon, faces were shocked. Even Viserys looked shocked, lilac eyes staring in disbelief at his youngest son.

 _What made the boy so bold?_ By further inspection…Tommen appeared different, and it was not just his spark of him finally having a spine against his brother. The boy was leaner. She can see the forming muscles under his clothes. There was less fat in his cheeks. But most of all…he was simply more sure of himself. He no longer slouches his shoulders. He now stood tall and back straight, staring his brother in the eye.

 _What can make him change so quickly?_ Arianne pondered. She was curious and when she was, she was going to find an explanation to quench her curiosity.

"What did you say?" Joffrey's face was mottled red by rage. "I'll make you pay for that!"

"You will do nothing," Viserys intervened. "No more arguing. Both of you are Targaryens, of my flesh and blood."

Joffrey granted Tommen a scathing glare. Tommen returned it stubbornly. When the two stopped trading looks of loathing, Tommen had a little smile of proud on his lips. Arianne said nothing of it. She did not want to begrudge the boy of what diminutive victory that he had.  _This will be interesting…_

Arianne stared after the departing wagon. What she had with Gerold was a fling, nothing more and nothing less. If someone asked her what she is feeling, she will respond with an 'I feel nothing'. She is not joyful that he died, as she did have some memorable times with him in bed. But she is not going to pretend that his death affects her. Gerold dying is not going to be a hiccup in her life. He is dead and gone.

"Who would tie him to a tree and leave him to die?" Quentyn asked.

"Someone who wants him dead," Trystane said unequivocally. "And someone who wants him to die a slow death."

 _Who could hate him that much?_ Arianne hadn't a clue. True, people did not like him, but no one actually hated the man.

Aegon sighed and looked to Viserys. "I should have sent men to search for him at the first mention of him being missing."

"Stop berating yourself. You could not have known," Viserys responded.

"Nonetheless, father and mother will be disappointed in me for my lack of effort. I didn't help him like I helped Jon Snow. I failed in my first duty as a prince." There was a vast of panic in the prince's eye before it faded like a fog. But there were vestiges that Arianne can see.  _What is bothering you, cousin?_

The silence was brought on. Rhaenys and Viserys stared at the prince in concern. Aegon did not meet their eyes.

"Now who has the balls to report this to Lady Dayne?" Arianne asked. Quentyn and Trystane gave her sharp looks. Nymeria, Tyene, and Obara glared at the boys in return.

"Ari!" Rhaenys admonished, rounding on her. "Someone died, and you are talking of balls."

"I thought you didn't want to speak to me, Rhae?" Arianne asked innocently, smiling. "Did something change?"

Rhaenys gave her a look. Arianne didn't know what it was. But her cousin clenched her jaw and looked away.  _I'm winning the game._ Arianne smiled at the welcoming realization. Her cousin wouldn't have looked like this if she was on good terms with 'her man'. Arianne was the one to tell her bastard cousins to lie to Rhaenys about the details of that spar. She knew that Rhaenys can be hot-headed. And she knew that Rhaenys was protective of her family. Arianne did not particularly like to have to steep so low to be dishonest with her cousin. But it had to be done. Before she decided to cut in, Rhaenys and the rider were inseparable. Whatever Rhaenys said, whatever Rhaenys did, it created a row. They were not so inseparable now were they?

Arianne hopped on the given opportunity formed by the row. And she couldn't wait to do it again. Rhaenys may have captured Jon's lips, but Arianne had captured what was really important. She shivered; the ghost of Jon's manhood in her hand was the only thing she thought about.

Arianne then smirked at Rhaenys, who stared at everything but her.  _You fucked up, cousin. And you are making this too easy._ Her eyes slid over Rhaenys's form. She took note of her tallness, her similar olive-toned skin, and her similar dark eyes. Rhaenys was fitted in a black gown that left no wonders to her womanly frame. Around her neck was a necklace that was adorned with rubies. She had let her hair down.  _I have no doubt that you are trying to catch his eye._ Arianne thought with a smirk.  _But is he going to look at you…or look at me?_

She too wore a gown, but it was a splendid blue. She wore a heart-shaped necklace that was the color of frosty white. Every now and then, a man would glance at her backside.  _Jon is going to be one of them. You cannot stop anything, Rhae._

"What made that?" Viserys pointed to the snapped trees. They were wide but snapped all the same. There was a heap of foliage scattered about. It was a mess. Many people did their uttermost to not impale themselves on the splintered trees.

Rhaenys eyes flickered, uneasiness and realization billowing in her brown eyes. "It is not a matter of ours," She said, voice atypically tight.  _What are you thinking of? Did you figure something out?_

"Yes," Aegon agreed, tearing his eyes from the destroyed trees. He turned to them all, his eyes hard. "But we ought to get the one who kidnapped Gerold Dayne."

"And how would we do that, brother?" Rhaenys asked. Arianne's suspicion incessantly grew.  _You know something, cousin. Why don't you say anything?_

"Would you have us stop this party, take everyone in custody, and question them?" There was raw disbelief in Rhaenys's voice.

Aegon paused, frowned, eyes flashing in indignation. "No, dear sister. I'm not that foolish. The convict will simply run off. We will act as we always act and talk to folks to see what they know. We will speak to every damned person on this hike if we have to. I'm not failing in my duties again." The promise was as real in his eyes as it was in his voice.

Oberyn thinned his lips. "I will need some water. By the end of this, my mouth will be extraordinarily dry."

Arianne looked around and saw the lack of enthusiasm on her families faces. They didn't want to do this, and neither did she. Aegon and Willas are the exclusive people who looked determined to undergo this. Arianne knew that Aegon was doing this because he wanted to do something right as a prince should, not for the sadness in the heart of Gerold's death. Willas was just a considerate person.

They went back into their carriages, and the hike promptly resumed. If anyone was confused by this, they didn't find out. Arianne was in a carriage with Tyene, Obara, Nymeria, and Rhaenys.

Rhaenys sat the outmost from her. The others filled the space between as if they were a barrier that kept them out of range from each other.

Nymeria, who sat next to her, whispered, "Do you two have to fight over a bastard? He is a northern bastard at that." She sneaked a glance to Rhaenys, who stared out the window instead of looking at them.

"He is not just a bastard. He is the rider," Arianne reminded her. "And he is very handsome. A handsome man is always my weakness."

"Rhae is family, not the rider," Nymeria retorted firmly. "A handsome man should come second, and family should come first."

"She is playing the same game that I am playing."

"I'm…hesitant to say that this is a game." Nymeria's voice conveyed how much she was uncertain. "This is going too far."

"What do we do?" Arianne asked without warning, slowly. She knew that her cousin will understand what she said.

Nymeria's face froze over, but she said with calmness, "Divide and conquer."

Arianne nodded, smiling brightly at her. "And that's what I'm doing."

"Do that somewhere else. You know Rhae had him first, Ari. Don't deny that."

"I'm not denying that," Arianne coincided, "but she can't keep him."

"Because of you," Nymeria whispered harshly. "She is in stress over the boy she likes because of your meddling."

"Yet, you, Tyene, and Obara lied to her for me nonetheless. You are in the fault just like me." Arianne would've called herself a liar if she said she didn't feel guilt over putting Rhaenys in such a stressful state. After all, she held the baby Rhaenys as a little child. She knew that Rhaenys was locking herself in her room. But Arianne can't leave Jon Snow alone. She wanted him to herself. She can be self-centered if it concerns the right people.

Arianne smirked in triumph when Nymeria was reduced to silence.

"What are you two conspiring about?" Rhaenys asked, slowly and detachedly. Her face was an indissoluble facade of impassiveness. "Does it concern me?" She added, her brown eyes staring out the carriage as if searching for a purpose that she couldn't ever discover.

"No, dear cousin," Nymeria said quickly. "We were discussing how long we have to wait until the king arrives."

The daughter of Rhaegar took one glance at Nymeria, and then her gaze slid to Arianne. The princess of Dorne was stunned by the pure hate that she saw in her cousin's eyes. Rhaenys's eyes lingered before she turned back to the window.

Rhaenys responded in the same distant voice, "My father  **is**  taking his sweet time." That was all. The princess said no more.

….

Men hollered out as they splashed in the pond. Some just sat contently, sticking their feet into the water. Women showed more skin than was proper as they joined the screaming men in the pond. Others just sat on the grass and chatted. Instruments in hand, some played music. They weren't good. They thought their play was decent, but it only made her ears scream in agony.  _Someone give them mercy and tell them to stop playing._

While the royal family was surrounded by the common folk, it did not hold a candle to the gob of people that surrounded Jon Snow.

Arianne sat with the family, trying to catch a glimpse of the rider to no use. Aegon, Viserys, Garlan Tyrell and Willas Tyrell were questioning individuals. Margaery did too but not as much. Oberyn didn't bother to use an excuse and just didn't talk to people, walking off with his paramour and children. Jeffrey sagged against a tree, snoring, Cersei sat next to her son, watching over him. Tommen was by his father's side, asking questions his father is doing.

That left only four women for her to talk to, Rhaenys, Tyene, Nymeria, and Obara. Nymeria was still angry with her to talk to her. Rhaenys didn't say a word since the ride in the carriage. So Arianne mainly talked to Tyene and Obara.

The conversation was promptly broken at the shouting of, "LEAVE HIM BE!" And there was a wet crash, quickly followed by several more. "I'm tired of you fuckers!" There was another watery splash. "Snow doesn't want you cunts kissing his arse!"

Heads snapped to see the hound clearing the mob around Jon Snow. The burnt man was hoisting men and women in the air and throwing them in the pond. People started to run away from the angry man.  _By the seven…_

"Calm down, Sandor!" Tyrion yelled as Sandor picked up another man. "They won't bother him now!"

"Put him down!" Bronn shouted. "You've scared everybody off, ugly shit!" He slapped a gloved hand against Sandor's hip.

Sandor scoffed and dropped the man abruptly. The man immediately dashed from his presence, frequently looking back to see if the man was chasing him.

With no mob, Jon, Tyrion, Sandor, Bronn, Gerris, and Daemon was in the center of the eyes. All of them were staring at the hound as if by him just breathing was absurd.

"That's one way to do it," Jon commented, a pleasant smile on his lips. "It's crude, but it did work."

Gerris looked like he fighting hard to not laugh, his blue eyes glancing at everybody. "I suggest that everybody hurry back to what they were doing…or…" He glanced at Sandor, who wore a dark scowl.

To Arianne's amusement, everyone actually heeded his warning, but not the Northmen. They were eyeing the rider. Arianne found this weird.

"That was surprising," Tyene remarked.

"Who is that man?" Obara demanded. Her eyes were strictly on Sandor. Arianne did not know if it was attraction or respect. Perhaps it was both.

"He is Lord Tyrion's sworn shield," Rhaenys answered shortly.

"Why would the rider deem them as friends?" Tyene asked to herself. "He can do so much better, like the crown prince."

"Or like me." Arianne stood to her feet. Rhaenys coiled her body, looking ready to spring. She smirked at her cousin and walked towards Snow.  _There is nothing you can do, Rhae._ She thought that Rhaenys would at least talk to Snow, but she can do it for her.

Jon's group saw her right away. Sandor stepped forward, growling.

"You can't throw her in the water, burnt face," Bronn said. "She's a princess."

"One day, you will regret the shit you've been calling me," Sandor growled.

"I'm your friend," Bronn smugly told him. "You enjoy the shit I've been calling you."

Sandor mumbled quietly.

"My princess," Tyrion greeted politely.

"My lord," Arianne greeted, just as polite. They had nothing against each other. Their interactions are neutral. She looked to Jon, holding his lilac gaze. "I want to talk to Snow."

Sandor looked ready to retort, but Gerris and Bronn were already ushering him away. Daemon and Tyrion walked after them.

_That was easy._

"Yes?" Jon asked.

Lust burned through her as she looked at him. His dark curls framed his face. And he had a neatly trimmed beard. His purple eyes were bright in the sunlight. He had a tall lean physique. He is beautiful, and he has a full grown dragon.  _I can see why Rhaenys wants him. And I can see why I must take him away from her._

"I want to talk to you," Arianne said finally.

"You've said that already."

Arianne crossed her arms, pumping her bosom. Jon's eyes flickered to them and back to her eyes.  _Don't try to hide it. I saw you. You want me._ "Why do you have to be so…standoffish?"

Jon tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "I think you know the answer, princess. You stroke me underneath the table when I having an enjoyable conversation with the prince. Wait, let me go back. You punched me in my face…and kissed me."

"Those are all spot on. And don't tell me what I did was unpleasant."

Jon blinked. "Getting punched in the face is unpleasant, princess."

Arianne sniggered behind her hand. She saw Jon smile softly before the smile was off his face. He was looking behind her, and she knew he was looking at Rhaenys. It annoyed her.  _You should only see me._

"You had the punch coming."

Jon knit his eyebrows. "How did I have it coming? I told you to hit my palms, not my face."

"Exactly." She went closer to him. "Don't you like a woman who is different from the rest?" She whispered.

"I do," Jon responded easily. "But not when the difference is about being fond of punching blokes in the face."

"Why are you still going on about that?" Arianne laughed, despite trying not to.

"Because it's painful, princess."

"But the question still stands." Arianne laid a hand on Jon's chest, feeling him tense. "Didn't you like what I did at the feast? I enjoyed it." She rubbed his chest in a circle. "We can always do it again…Maybe even more…I'll give you the best ride of your life."

Jon's eyebrows climbed as if he was thinking of humoring her. Then his eyes widened, staring at something past her.

Arianne heard loud footsteps and began to turn her head. Before she can see what it was, she was grabbed in a chokehold. She couldn't escape it. She delivered two elbows to the ribs, inciting a female yelp. She was getting dragged along now. It hurt her windpipe.

Arianne looked at Jon for help. The rider's eyes were wide as he stared, and he made no move to intervene.

Her world swirled with deep blue as she was flung into the pond.

**Jon**

"RHAE!" Aegon shouted. "Why did you do that?"He started running to where they stand.

The royal family gathered around the pond, watching Arianne sputter as she tried to swim out. Highborn and lowborn gawked at the princess.

Rhaenys appeared to not care about them. She stared right at him, face hard. Her hands were clenched at her sides.  _Is…is that jealousy I see in her eyes?_

Jon didn't know what to say, but he assumed that she was waiting for it. Rhaenys stood there silently, frowning. But what can he say to her? She just tossed her fucking cousin in the pond. Does she want a pat on the head?  _Hell, she looks like she wants to toss me in the pond next._

"Thank you for the egg, Jon," Rhaenys forced out through her teeth, her eyes blazing. She looked so angry…like a dragon. Somehow, strangely, Jon liked the furious anger in her brown eyes. He liked the way she let her hair down. He liked how her dres-  _Stop that._

"You're welcome, princess," Jon said dryly.  _Are you angry that I put the egg right on your doorstep? Good. You are not worth my time. Do you think I would greet you alone after what you did? Think again, sister._

"Yes, thank you for the egg," Aegon said, behind Rhaenys. The crown prince glanced at his sister in disproval. "You didn't think to thank him when he gave it to you?"

"He never gave me a chance to." Rhaenys slowly walked towards Jon, but Aegon grabbed her arm, frowning at him.  _Was she about to come and hit me again?_

"You didn't hand her the eggs as I asked you to?" Aegon asked him.

"No."

Unwillingly, Jon's eyes darted from Rhaenys's face to her body. He saw-  _Stop that._ When he looked back up, everything was different.

Very confused, Jon watched as Rhaenys smiled softly at catching him. He knew that she knew that he was looking. Her little smile was weird. It was a combination of anger and something else…

By now, Quentyn and Trystane helped Arianne from the pond. "How dare you!" Arianne yelled and charged at Rhaenys, angry and soaking.  _Shit._

Rhaenys put her hands up, but Arianne's fist plunged in her cheek. Rhaenys kicked her in the side in retribution. They both hit the ground rolling, both trying to get a clear shot at the other. Jon frowned every time a fist landed home.

The rest of the royal family and the kingsguard tried to pry them off from each other. When they finally achieved the task, whispers were flying. While Rhaenys looked composed and regal as she was being held back by Aegon, Arianne was still snapping insults as she was being held back by Oberyn.

Rhaenys and Arianne were both leaking from the nose. The former didn't care about the blood, but the later cleaned her blood angrily.  _Did they just fight because of me?_  The Sand Bitches glared at him as though he caused this.

As they were being led to different carriages, Rhaenys looked back over her shoulder to him.  _What does she think that I'm thinking?_ Just going along with it, Jon gave her a thinned-lip smile. Rhaenys didn't smile, and she turned her head away.  _I'm getting tired of this. Southern girls are fucking weird sometimes._ He stared at Rhaenys's back until she was in her carriage.

"I think the hike is over," Gerris said at his side. They saw people packing their belongings to leave. And they even saw the royal family departing.  _They wanted to leave as soon as possible. They knew that they disgraced themselves._ There was laughter. The people from the Stormlands, Riverlands, the north, the Vale, did not hide their whispers and their sniggers. Jon just felt embarrassed by association.

"Aye."

"I'll see you around, Jon Blackscale." Jon shook Gerris's hand. The man left.

Jon turned his head to see his cousins, Lady Stark, and the Northmen approaching. They didn't look happy for the most part. He frowned at their red-faced expressions.

"You gave them fucking dragon eggs, Snow?!" Lord Umber bellowed. The others looked just as angry. "Are you fucking serious?"

 _No, I'm not doing this. Fuck that._ He was tired. He was partially angry. He was confused. And he was about to have the biggest fucking migraine he had in a while. He did the only thing that seemed appropriate to him at the moment and the healthiest.

He walked away.

**Aegon**

He did not get to have a talk with Jon Snow about flying dragons as he wanted. He did not get to listen to some music as he wanted. And he did not get to discover who kidnapped Gerold Dayne.

Sitting at the table in front of him was why all those things couldn't become a reality. Rhaenys was wiping the blood around her mouth area. She didn't look at him or at Viserys. She didn't look rattled. She looked very calm, almost cheerful. Arianne was in the other room, being reprimanded by her brothers, her cousins, and her uncle.

"Why, Rhae?" Aegon started, trying to stay calm. "Why did you do that?"

"I did it because I wanted to. No, I  **needed** to," Rhaenys replied smoothly. She crossed her legs, unperturbed by his scowl.

"You needed to fight Arianne in front of the lords of the great houses?"

"It was going to happen sooner than later, little brother."

_Come on, don't give that shit._

Viserys didn't say anything. He just gripped the top of his chair, staring at the golden dragon egg. Aegon and Rhaenys told the family that Jon gave it to them this morning. As expected, everyone had mixed reactions.

"Why!" Aegon grabbed his silver hair, wanting to vent his anger out on it. "Why did you two have to fight in front of them? Why did you two have to fight at all?"  _What did I miss? Rhaenys and Arianne were always close…_

Rhaenys's eyes began to harden. She was becoming stubborn. "What goes on between us stays between us."

"Did that fight stay between you two?" Aegon questioned in anger.  _We were fools out there!_ "It fucking didn't it, Rhae!"  _The Targaryen name is becoming a joke!_

Rhaenys stood up to his face in anger. "Stop shouting at me. I'm the older sibling, brother." Aegon glared at her.

"I can shout at you all I want because you fucking deserve it!" Father trusted him to keep the peace in this castle. Aegon knew it was a test. He knew he failed  **terribly**. Already, he was shivering at his father and mother arriving to find out what's going on. He wanted to cry, to be honest. It was hard pleasing the most contentious lords. His older sister was not helping him.  _She is making things so much worse…_

Aegon and Rhaenys stared each other down, sibling anger flaring in the air.

"It won't matter in the end," Viserys intoned oddly. His face was hard.

"Tell us what you mean, uncle," Rhaenys asked.

Viserys stood slowly, facing them. The fire of the hearth illumined the side of his pale face. Aegon started to feel sick by the seriousness of it all. "The king and the queen will arrive in the morn."

_No…_

Aegon's legs were quivering in nervousness, though he tried to stop it. He did not live up to the expectations of the crown prince. His father and mother will see the mess their family made. They will place the blame on him because he was supposed to be 'king' in father's absence. The Targaryens and the Martells are now the laughing stocks of Westeros. The fault was all his.

Aegon looked at his egg from the corner of his eye, trying to form a smile.  _Having dragon eggs will be good compensation, right?_

 _Eh, who am I fooling? I'm going to be disowned._ He is only waiting for the inevitable.

"Give me Dragonfly," Aegon murmured, looking at Rhaenys. His sister and uncle stared at him. "Give it to me now. I think I'm about to lose my mind."


	20. Chapter 20

**Aegon**

The rumbling of the horns loomed over the castle. Servants and stable boys were running in a frenzy to prepare for the arrival of the king and the queen. The sky was dark, cloudy, looking ready to storm.  _The melee will be played in the rain._  Aegon mused.  _It will be a good fight._

Aegon tried not to twitch as he stood next to Tyrion and Margaery. Noblemen and women from different regions of Westeros were in attendance in the courtyard, ready to make the acquaintance of the king. Being the royal family, they stood close to the representatives of House Whent.

He twisted his head and saw that most of the Lord Paramount's were here, including the Starks and Theon Grejoy. But he saw no Jon Snow.  _He has to be here as well._ Aegon thought in his head.  _He is a bastard, yes, but he is a lord in his own right. He is a dragon rider._

There was one person in mind that could know Snow's whereabouts. Aegon lowered his head to Tyrion and whispered, "Where is Jon Snow?"

Tyrion shrugged his uneven shoulders. "I don't know, my prince."

"You always seem to be around him."

"I'm his friend, not his head."

Aegon looked away from the master of coin. He looked at Viserys, who had a hard glint in his eye.  _Do you still hate father, uncle? Even when it has been years since you've two last seen each other?_

He drifted his eyes to Rhaenys, who had a slightly apprehensive look in her eye.  _Do you feel as nervous as me, big sister? We both out to have this fear._  Aegon turned his eyes back to the front, taking calming breaths.  _Father and mother are going to be so disappointed._

The gates opening made everybody hold their breath. The profound air was heavy with anticipation. There was the harsh clicking sound of galloping horses until the Kingsguard appeared, white cloaks flowing. Aegon heard people shout when they removed their helms, revealing Barristan Selmly, Arthur Dayne, Oswell Whent, and Gerold Hightower. They are the white swords, the greatest knights in the realm.

Gerold Hightower scrutinized the courtyard, his brothers doing the same. The lord commander of the Kingsguard nodded, seeing no apparent danger. The old man motioned his hand to something behind him.

Then the king's cortege rode in. Aegon did not know if he was happy or anxious when he saw his father and mother. The king was riding a silver mare into the courtyard. He wore a black and red doublet and pants. On his head was a crown that was a circle of square rubies. The queen was riding a lesser horse, a sand steed. She wore an elegant orange dress and wore no crown. The hand of the king, Jon Connington, rode behind them. The less important people were coming from the back, so Aegon did not look at them. No, he was wrong. There was a carriage coming through the gates. Aegon hoped that the person he was thinking about was in it.

The courtyard, aside from the king's family, knelt when the king and the queen climbed off their horses. Rhaegar clasps Elia's hand in his own and looked at them all. "Rise, my friends," He ordered softly. The words were soft but had an authority tone attached to it, and it washed over everybody, including him.

They stood and watched the king and queen, all silent and all in rows.

Following what was protocol, Rhaegar and Elia walked to the hosts of the castle first. "Lady Whent," Rhaegar greeted, "You have my thanks for holding this event in the name of the crown."

Lady Whent bowed her grey-head. "You have simply given me honor for giving us the chance to answer your call."

"Answered the call you did," Elia told her. "And you and your daughter and your sons did it splendidly." The sons and daughter in question blushed and lowered their eyes.

It was then Oswell the dark knight strode to the side of the king, his helm emblazoned with a black bat. He placed the helm underneath his armpit and grinned at his kin. "Good-sister," He greeted Lady Whent first. The old lady smiled and nodded. "You look well…for a woman that whelped four rascals and one maiden fair."

Oswell's niece blushed prettily, whilst one of his nephews sought out to defend himself. "I shan't allow you dishonor me, old man." Oswell smirked and raised a challenging eyebrow. "I shall b-"

"May I offer you the salt and bread of my table," Lady Whent said, interrupting the argument before it took route. She dipped her head, sweeping her hand to signal the servants to start approaching with trays. They came in a flurry of brown and silver, bowing and serving the newcomers.

"We accept gratefully," His father said, helping himself for some.

Aegon found himself watching his father and mother. They looked cool and regal as they nipped at the bread. He averted his eyes, wondering if they will be that way when they come to know what's happened.

 _This tourney was arranged only to have the intent to heal bitter wounds with the other kingdoms._ Aegon thought in his head, his lips tugging downward.  _Oh, how mighty the plan has fallen. I ought to do the same._

His father and mother strode to them, with all the authority of being king and queen influencing their footsteps. Aegon's heart stopped in his chest every time their heels touched the ground.

A hand groped his shoulder and gently pushed him to the side. Aegon turned his head to see that Rhaenys slipped in between him and Tyrion.

"You looked ready to collapse, brother," Rhaenys whispered. "Be at ease. Sis is by your side."

Aegon nodded, but he was thinking,  _or do you not want to be alone when our parents scold us?_

Father and mother came upon Tyrion first, the kingsguard behind them silent as ghosts but with the eye of hawks.

"Your Highness," Tyrion greeted them, slightly bowing his head.

"Lord Tyrion," Elia greeted warmly. "I hoped that you had a relaxing time away from the capital."

"It warms my heart for a dear queen as you to have a care for a dwarf like me," Tyrion said with a lopsided grin.

Elia chuckled and Rhaegar's mask melted away to give a small smile to his master-of-coin. "That dwarf you speak of manages the finances and eases my stress with jests, drunken or not."

"Just now you murdered my worries," Tyrion said. "I had the thought that your family grew tired of my jests and was secretly planning my long-awaited demise."

"Perhaps our willful daughter plans those things, not us." Elia stopped before Rhaenys and gave her a motherly kiss on the cheek.

"If I did Lady Mother, then Tyrion or anybody else shan't know about it," Rhaenys said warmly, smiling at father and mother.

"Just so." Rhaegar kissed Rhaenys on the crown of her head. "Did you entertain the court of ladies?"

"I did the best I can, father."  _She did entertain the court…but not the way you were expecting._

"And did you keep that hidden flame inside yourself, my little dragon?"

The ever-present confidence was gone in Rhaenys's eyes. His sister opened her mouth to speak but no words were formed.

His father frowned, his lips pressed together. "We must speak more about this, Rhaenys. I promise you this." Rhaenys dropped her eyes and nodded.

Mother squeezed Rhaenys's arm reassuringly before moving on to him with father. Again, the Kingsguard followed the king as though they were his shadows.

Aegon's smile was as real as the possibility of Tyrion being tall. He knew that his mother saw this, for she slightly narrowed her eyes.

"Mother," Aegon greeted as he hugged the woman that almost died bringing him to the world. Although he was scared to death, he was still happy to see his mother. "You are as radiant as ever."

His mother laughed, and it once again reminded Aegon of where his sister got her pleasant laugh from. "You are still an eloquent talker, Aegon. I wonder where you got that from." She glanced at father with a smile. "I knew that you didn't inherit that from your father."

"And people still sought to downgrade my father. He is a man of many surprises. I know I got that much from him," Aegon said.

Both of their pieces said, mother shifted so his father can approach.

Aegon's stomach seemed to do flips and explode from his father's smile. "My son," His father breathed out, smiling at him with indisputable pride. Aegon felt worse. He didn't deserve it. That pride would turn into disappointment. He knows this to be true.

"I ought not to ask because I know this to be true. But did you do your duty as the prince of the seven kingdoms and keep everything in order?" Father asked.

He found it unbearable to look into those lilac eyes that were so like his own. He somehow held his father's imploring gaze, but he didn't say anything. His mouth was open, searching for words that were beyond his reach.  _I didn't do so, father. I failed you…_

Father and mother were frowning at him and Rhaenys now, their eyes taking turns to stare at them both. And then Aegon became conscious of the other noble's stares. They felt mocking and were filled with glee. He didn't have to turn his head to know.  _How will you react when you know that nobody respects house Targaryen any longer, father?_

His parents must've felt the vibes from the lords, as they now too stared at the rows of nobles silently. And they must've known something was amiss.

"We had… quite of hectic days in your absence, your highness," Tyrion said. His words were pointed and very specific if you were in Harrenhall from the start. Those words were meant for him and Rhaenys alone. For it was them to take the brunt of the blame.

"How so, Lord Tyrion?" Father asked, not taking his eyes off the crowd.

"…It is best that it can be explained in privacy," Tyrion said.

His father then pinned his eyes on him and his sister again. Only this time he looked ready to pick their brains apart. It was so intense that he had to look away, his eyes down to his high boots. He felt so...small. He knew Rhaenys was feeling the same.

"Rhaegar, we will get to talk to them," Mother said as she clamped a slim hand on father's arm.

"We shall," Father declared. He gave him another piercing look that persisted to have his insides squirm, even when he and mother went on to greet Margaery.

"Are you ready, Egg?" Rhaenys murmured casually, fiddling with her gown. "Are you ready to make them aware of how we are disappointments?" Even then, Aegon can hear a twinge of nervousness in her dornish drawl.

"This is your fault, all of this is," Aegon whispered back, hands twitching at his sides. "You made everything fucking complicated."

"Aeg-"

"Ever since coming here, Rhae, you have taken things to the extreme. And I am punished for it. You and I are not going to be the same after this."

Rhaenys looked at him once before turned her eyes straight. "Hmmm."

"Are you not going to say anything or apologize?" Aegon flared.

"I'm not because you don't understand. I don't think you ever will. All I can say this that we are going to be in this together," Rhaenys said.

"Of course I don't understand because you won't tell anybody," Aegon said. "All of this would have been avoi-"

"Not everything is my doing. Others have a part also. So stop attempting to berate me," Rhaenys retorted. "I know what did, and I don't regret any of them. What I'm fighting for is worth it."  _What exactly are you fighting for? Is Arianne fighting for the same? Seven save us..._

Aegon did not want to quarrel with her any more than he had. "Your right, sis. We are going to be in this together," he said with a tired smile.

Rhaenys looked at him appraisingly, either in approval or in surprise. Perhaps it was both. But she didn't say more.

Aegon looked down the row to see that father and mother were just going past Margaery. It was the next face that made him tense.

"Viserys," Father greeted with a happy smile. "It's good for me to lay my eyes upon you again, brother of mine."

"Your grace," Viserys greeted simply and coldly. He said not an ounce to match the vigor of his brother's words. Aegon flinched despite himself. He knew this will happen. But he was still feeling uncomfortable.

Father's smile faltered and Aegon's heart dropped to his stomach painfully.

"We will speak sometime, brother," Father promised, laying a hand on one of Viserys broad shoulders.

"It is your son and daughter who you should speak to instead."

Aegon turned his face away to once again avoid his parent's inquisitive gazes. Rhaenys slipped her slender hands to his bigger ones and squeezed. He saw that she was meeting their gazes head-on.

Aegon returned his eyes to watch as his parents greeted Tommen and Joffrey. Through it all, Cersei eyed the king with poorly hidden lust. Aegon wanted to frown but did not. That golden bitch has always stared at his father as though he was a god among men in court.

After greeting Joffrey with a simple pat on the head, father smiled and gripped Tommen's upper arm. "You have grown Tommen, far from the boy I remember that used to cling to his father's left leg. Continue doing what you are doing."

Tommen smiled and nodded. "I will your grace." Mother cupped the boy's cheeks, making him snigger. Aegon had to smile at that. But he wondered what his cousin was doing in his free time.

Father and mother moved to the Martells, and mother smiled happily whilst his father retained his cool mask.

"Oberyn!" Mother rushed forward and hugged her brother tightly. "It is so good to see you! You have not changed in the least. The years have been kind to you, brother."

The Red Viper hugged the queen back just as tightly, as though it would be for the last time sharing an embrace. "And the years have been even better to you, dear sister. Your beauty eclipses all."

The hug was done but the two siblings smiled at each other. They were close indeed.

"Oh, Oberyn…I doubt your venom can match your flattery words," Mother said. "You cannot depend on your tongue in the melee."

Oberyn laughed. "Don't worry, Elia. The Red Viper will prevail."

It was then that Oberyn looked to the king, and all the warmth in his dark eyes has cooled over noticeably. "Your grace," He greeted shortly.

"Prince Oberyn," Father replied, just as coldly. The two men had a short standoff before father turned his eyes to Arianne. And Aegon grimaced. Every time he looked at his cousin, the incident she had with Rhaenys replayed in his mind.

"Princess Arianne, You are fairer than I remember," Father said, considerably warmer to her than Oberyn. "There is no doubt that you had your share of suitors."

Arianne smiled at the king. "You have spoken truly, my king." She then turned to Rhaenys and her smile became a cold smirk. "Some want what I have."

"That bitch," Aegon heard Rhaenys hiss angrily. "I ought to teach her a lesson." He grabbed her hand and shook his head. They cannot make another incident people will gossip about. They had enough.

"Some are delusional to think what they have is theirs when it belongs to others," Rhaenys said out loud. "They ought to wake up."

"Rhaenys," Aegon whispered to her in a warning. "'Tis enough."

"Or perhaps some cannot accept the truth that what they want was not theirs in the first place," Arianne said, slightly baring her teeth. "If you can't keep it, leave it to someone who can."

Rhaenys and Arianne glared at each other. Aegon can see sparks in the air between them. His hands began to sweat as he saw that his parents were observing the exchange curiously. The rest of the family watched them warily. The kingsguard said nothing, but their eyes were probing.

To break the ice that descended on the courtyard in the easiest way how, Aegon laughed loudly. Everyone started and looked at him. He smiled at them all and spread his arms as though he was waiting to be hugged. "Yes, we all know that they both have their own respectable amount of suitors. I dare say they can't hold them off!" He jested fluently. One of the things he was best at was breaking the silence.

On cue, Margaery started chuckling beside him. And soft laughter was running up and down through the courtyard.

Rhaenys and Arianne did not laugh, but they did tear their eyes off from the other. And that was good for Aegon. He would take what he can get.

"Yes, it appears so." Mother chuckled.

The next to be met was the Tyrells.

"Your grace," Willas greeted, leaning on his finely made cane. Garlan Tyrell stood by him. "'Tis good to make your acquaintance."

The king nodded. "You as well, my lord. It pains me to realize that your grandmother stays in Highgarden. I miss her sharp wit."  _'Tis a queer thing he did not at all mention the fat Tyrell._

Willas chuckled. "As they all say."

Father looked towards Garlan and looked him over. "Not a day goes by without somebody speaking of your chivalry and your warrior prowess."  _Funny enough, not a single damned person spoke of him. What people talk about is Jon Snow, the kingsguard, the mountain, and me._

Against his better judgment, Aegon turned his head to look to where the Starks were standing. Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy and the rest were scowling fiercely. While Lady Catelyn changed her facial expression when she saw him looking, Robb Stark did not. His blue eyes peered at him challengingly. Still, Aegon was not impressed.

"It would be my honor to prove myself in the melee, king Rhaegar," Garlan said. "It will be there where those words can be proven to be true or false."  _Watch for the wolves, rose..._

At that moment father and mother came upon the Lannisters.  _And no Tywin Lannister...he never leaves his den._

"I see Lord Tywin deemed it fit to stay in Casterly Rock," Mother said to Keven Lannister formally.

"A shame." Keven nodded. His son Lancel Lannister stood at his side. "Business at Casterly Rock had needed immediate attention." Aegon knew that to be a lie. But he did not speak on it, neither did his parents.

Father and mother regain their coolness when they strode to Jon Aryn and his heir. The group watched the king and queen warily and coldly.

"Lord Arryn," Father greeted the old man.

"Your grace," Jon Arryn replied, bowing his head slightly. Aegon did not miss the cold look the two exchanged. His father killed Robbert Baratheon, the man Jon Arryn loved as a son.  _He rebelled against my grandfather for Robbert Baratheon._

His father nodded polity at Harrold, took mother's hand, and moved on to the next group.

They stopped in front of Renly Baratheon and Edric Baratheon, the two staring down at the king and queen by more than a few inches.

"My king," Said the usurper's brother. Edric Baratheon was silent but stared at the king stoically. Aegon watched them carefully, as did everyone else.  _As were their house words, they have a fury._

"Renly Baratheon," Father said, sounding like a declaration. "I wish you and your heir with all the happiness in the world."

"We do need it," Renly conceded. "And so does your family."

Mother's eyes sharpened, whilst father only nodded solemnly. "I have taken care of Mya Stone with respect. Do not fear."

"I have seen it with my own eyes, your grace. My niece has indeed been treated well. I thank you," Renly said. Aegon can hear the gratefulness.

It was house Tully who they greeted next. "Lord Edmure," Father greeted. Edmure nodded at him in return. He then looked at Blackfish and smiled. "The renowned Blackfish…have you now have the thought to take a wife as your brother envisioned?"

"No, your grace," Blackfish said in that croaky, smoky voice of his. "I remain a stubborn mule, and my brother curses me for it." The king and queen laughed.

They walked on. The last group had everyone holding their breath. The air seems to thicken and a decrease in temperature. The Starks and the Greyjoy watched father and mother icily. Their enormous direwolves were at their back, eyes intent on the king and queen. Aegon did not know whether the Starks put them there for a fear factor, or because they thought they will feel threatened. It was working because everyone gave them a wide berth.

It was seeing the wolves that made mother and father pause in their tracks. Gerold Hightower and Oswell stepped forward, hands on their pommels. "What has been going through your minds to bring such vile beasts in the presence of your king?" Oswell demanded as his eyes were on the unruly, black wolf.

It was the wrong thing to say, for all of the Starks narrowed their eyes. Arya Stark looked like she wanted to attack him if not for the steady hands of Theon holding her in place.

Robb looked at Oswell, working his jaw. "Watch your mouth, ser. Those vile beasts are direwolves, our houses sigil. They belong at our side."

"Stand down," Mother commanded to Oswell and Gerold. And they did it reluctantly.

"If they make any sudden moves, I will cut them down myself," Gerold warned, backing off. Arya and Rickon scoffed. Aegon wanted to do the same. Those wolves looked capable of downing a hundred men.

Theon gave the man a cocky grin. "Good luck in doing so, Hightower."  _Where is your family, Greyjoy?_

"You are Robb Stark," Father said, looking at the heir of Winterfell with a careful eye. "Named after Robbert Baratheon."

Robb stood tall and strong under the stares of many wary eyes. "Yes, and I am proud to wear the name. 'Tis a strong name, my father said. And I know this to be true." He did not look away from father's lilac eyes. Aegon lifted his eyebrows at the proud look Lady Catelyn wore on her face.

Father clicked his teeth. "And where is Lord Stark?" The words sounded…dangerous to Aegon. He has no clue why.

"In Winterfell, your grace," Robb Stark answered. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

The courtyard looked at the king for his reaction. Father observed Robb Stark patently, his eyes looking at every facial expression of the man. It ran on for so long that Aegon felt uneasy by just watching it.  _Does he think to see Eddard Stark instead?_ He wondered. Even Robb looked as though he was beginning to squirm.

"'Tis how it is then," Father said at last. He looked at Catelyn and nodded at her. He looked over them all. And if he was curious about where Jon Snow was, he did not show it.  _Strange…_  He then looked at the girl, and his eyes were glued on to her. Mother looked at the girl as well. Both looked as if they were struck out of breath.

"What happened?" Aegon asked himself as they made no move to say anything.

"'Tis the Stark girl," Rhaenys said, watching them as well. "The girl has a close resemblance to the late Lyanna Stark."

"Oh," Was all that he can say.

"What's your name?" Father quietly asked the Stark girl.

Arya did a poor attempt at a curtsy, as her mother and sister watched in horror. Bran and Rickon watched in amusement. "My name is Arya Stark…" She paused. Sansa nudged her, and she hastily finished it. "Your grace."

"You look just like Lyanna," Mother said in which sounded suspiciously like longing. Aegon took note of it. And he also took note that she mentioned the dead Stark in front of a large audience, and her kin. His parents only brought up the cause of the rebellion happening, just from the name of the girl his father ran off with.

The onlookers rippled with grumbles. At once, faces tightened in anger.

"They shouldn't have said that," Aegon whispered. He saw Oberyn's face darken.

"Aye, they shouldn't have," Rhaenys agreed in a whisper.

The Starks did not look pleased. But Arya blurted out, "That's not true! They say she was beautiful! I'm not beautiful! I'm Arya horseface." Arya gave a cross look to Sansa Stark, who did not meet her gaze.

"Arya! Stay silent!" Lady Catelyn admonished her daughter. "Be a lady!"

"I don't want to!" Arya shouted at her. She savagely waved her skinny arms in the air. Rickon sniggered but was silenced by Bran's nudge to the side. Robb quickly stopped the movement of Arya's wild arms by placing a calm hand on her shoulder.

"A wild wolf indeed." Rhaenys chuckled. Aegon had to agree.

Father and mother surprised everyone by laughing. The king of Westeros then smiled at Arya. "You have the same wolf's blood as your aunt did. Do not be ashamed of what you are."

Arya muttered something and looked up at the king and queen. "Even if I don't want to be a stupid lady?" There were more chuckles in the courtyard.  _I think she forgets that she is talking to the king._  Lady Catelyn looked as though she was about to burst with the urge to scold her, but she said nothing.

"Just so," The king and queen said at once, smiling down at Arya.

Aegon wrenched his eyes from the weirdness of it all and looked upward. There, perched on one of the tall towers, was a raven. The blackbird watched what was going on so intently that Aegon thought it was a human. Then the bird looked straight at him, its beady eyes too intelligent for something so small.

**Jon**

_I am not a coward. I am not a coward. I am not a coward._ He repeated it in his mind in denial, as a warlock would repeat to cast wicked spells.

He was in a raven's body, watching the nobles greet the king and queen of Westeros. Warging definitely had its purposes.

He knew that he expected to be down there by the Starks, notwithstanding being a bastard. He saw confused eyes looking around and the curious questions being asked.

But he looked down at the king, his father. He watched him greet the lords and ladies smoothly with his wife by his side. He saw everything.

He then looked over to the side and almost fell over the ledge when he saw Aegon staring at him. He locked eyes with him and slowly flapped his wings. He then flew over to him, landing at Aegon's feet.

"Hello," Aegon said, smiling at him. "Why were you watching us?"

He chirped in response and flapped his wings again.

"Are you talking to a bird, brother?" Rhaenys asked from the left of Aegon, looking away from the king and queen to stare at him.

"No," Aegon said immediately.

Jon found this amusing.  _"Liar!"_  He chirped.  _"Liar!"_ He marched to Aegon on his little legs, flapping his wings the entire way.

The silver-head bend over and placed him on his arm. Aegon looked at him in the eye, their faces close. "You're a good bird, aren't you?" He whispered.

"Love, what are you doing with that raven?" Margaery asked.

Aegon appeared at lost what to say. "I think it's trying to speak to me." He slowly gestured to him with an unsure hand.

"A bird is trying to talk to you?" Rhaenys scoffed.

Jon twisted his bird body until he faced the woman.  _"Talk! Talk! Talk!"_

It made Rhaenys and Margaery fall silent. If a raven can grin, then Jon would've done so by now.

"What is this?" Tyrion asked, waddling from his standing spot. "Is that a raven?"

"'Tis a talking raven," Rhaenys said slowly. "It's actually talking."

"A talking raven…" Tyrion narrowed his eyes in thought. Jon tilted his head and flapped his wings ferociously. Then Tyrion's eyes widened, and a smile crept on his face. He knew who he was. The Lannister and Robb are the only people that knew he can warg.

Jon flew in the air and perched on Rhaenys's shoulder. When she looked at him silently, he chirped.  _"Sand Bitches! Sand Bitches!"_

Rhaenys frowned severely. And Tyrion started laughing. Jon flapped his wings again and leaned in closer to Rhaenys's face.  _"Sand bitches! San-"_

Rhaenys smacked him from her shoulder. Jon gave out a loud noise that sounded like a yelp and crashed to the ground. Pain welled in his body.

"Rhaenys! It's just a raven!" He heard Aegon exclaim.

"You are too harsh on the bird, princess," Tyrion put in. "Birds have feelings too."

Jon didn't hear Rhaenys respond. He was picked up from the floor by firm hands that wouldn't let him go. Jon squirmed in Rhaenys's hold.

"'Tis not so normal raven," Rhaenys said, inching him closer to her face. "What kind of sorcery is this?" She demanded in a whisper, her brown eye boring into his. "You can't be saying those words. You can't be…"

_Does she know? I underestimated her._

"Rhae, put it down. A carriage is approaching," Aegon told her. "It can be our grandmother and Ashara or Dany…"

Rhaenys looked at him and then tucked Jon underneath her arm. He was not one to give up, however, as he started nipping at her side.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Rhaenys winced and let go of him and rubbed where he nipped at. She reached for him, but he was already flapping away.  _My apologies, princess._

" _Sand bitches! Sand bitches! Sand bitches! Sand Bitches!_

The people in the courtyard looked up at him as he chirped for all to hear. Some cursed. Some waved. Some laughed.

It was common for people in the castle to hear Northen label Oberyn's bastards as Sand bitches, so laughter begins to spread down below.

After doing a couple of rounds of chirping, Jon went back over to the ledge and watched the courtyard deplete.

It was later when he awoke in his own body. Jon blinked as a raindrop hit his eyeball. He was in the God's Eye, lying down on the grass.

 _I had too much fun with that._  Jon thought with a small smirk, sitting up. He probably shouldn't have done that, but he got an act of small revenge for Robb and Alys. Alas, the Sand bitches weren't in the courtyard themselves.

As he got to his feet, soft rain was pummeling his dark curls. Jon, still wanting to warg some more, thought of Tommen's cat. He sat back down and closed his eyes, mental tendrils groping out wide.

**Rhaella Targaryen**

After the hilarious raven commotion (Which left Oberyn and Arianne steaming, Tyrion laughing, and Rhaenys strangely quiet), they withdrew to a private chamber. Trystane, Quentyn and the Sand Snakes joined as well and were quickly informed of what happened. Now they sat at the table, the Sand Snakes glowering, and Jaime Lannister at the front of the room. The other kingsguard was in the room, looking at the Lannister.

"…Then princess Rhaenys said prince Aegon was…brain fucked…" There was a sly smirk on Jaime's face before he went on. If he had any trouble recalling, Loras would fill in the blank spots.

Rhaella listened as Jaime Lannister recalled what transpired with mounting disbelief. Though, even that was eclipsed by the disbelief at seeing two dragon eggs on the hearth and the Valyrion sword on Rhaegar's lap.

Rhaegar, with his crown on the table, took Blackfrye out of the sheath and inspecting the length of the sword as he listened to Jaime, pausing and frowning as they dig deeper and deeper of what a shit show the tourney was in their absence. The smoky ripples on the sword almost distracted her from the kingsguard's words.

Aegon and Rhaenys sat together, the farthest away from Rhaegar and Elia. Rhaella thought that was wise because every now and then Elia would clench her jaw. Rhaegar's emotions were harder to pinpoint, but she saw that his eyes were slightly narrowed.

Dany sat by her. Rhaella saw that her daughter was throwing Aegon a few disbelieving looks as it seemed there was no end to Jaime's storytelling of the past few days. Before, Aegon couldn't keep his eyes off her, now he couldn't even meet her gaze.

 _Did this true?_ Rhaella couldn't help but think. It seemed so ridiculous. Aegon and Rhaenys had more than a few spats in front of the lords. Aegon and Rhaenys had tantrums. They somehow made house Baratheon and house Stark angry. They had arguments in front of the guests. They somehow let someone die. And Arianne and Rhaenys fought… _What has the world come to?_

Jaime fell silent, bowing his head, and went into a corner.

The silence only thickened.

Rhaella then frowned, processing the alarming information. In her musings, she noticed that Rhaegar slide the sword back in the sheath and walked over to the hearth, watching the eggs.

"You have shamed house Targaryen and house Martell," Rhaegar began without preamble. "How do my own son and daughter act this way? Haven't your mother and I taught you better?"

Aegon's head perked up. "Fath-"

"Do not speak." Elia hissed like a snake. Her eyes were hard and her voice somehow topping that. "Rhaenys, I love you, but if you speak I will slap you senseless. Aegon, I will kick your teeth in. If you both want to be children, I will treat you like children." She turned her angry eye to Arianne. "And don't think you are off the hook, young lady. You have shamed house Martell also, my niece. Your father will be hearing this." Arianne did not look as if she cared.

It was no idle threat. Elia does not anger easily but when she does, it was better for anybody to avoid her fury. It will not bode well for Rhaella's grandchildren to provoke their mother, so she mentally bid for them to keep quiet.

Across the table, Joffrey was smiling gleefully, and Cersei was hiding her smile behind her goblet. Tommen looked down at the table whilst patting his cat. Viserys was saying words to Aegon without actually speaking them.

On Rhaella's side, Dany was frowning at Aegon. Trystane was quietly talking to Quentyn. Oberyn was smiling softly, as though this was but a game for children to him. Margaery was rubbing Aegon's hand, causing Dany to scowl. Willas and Garlan showed nothing but calmness. And most dangerously of all, Arianne would not stop smirking at Rhaenys.

 _Oh, no child. Stop looking at her like that._ Rhaella willed desperately. She can even feel herself wanting to shake the dornish princess. A quick glance to Rhaenys showed that she was trying to ignore her cousin. But how long would that last?

"I put my trust in you, Aegon. I had so much faith in you…Only I was a fool for doing so. It seems, despite what I taught you, that you are unfit to be my heir."

Aegon stood up, his eyes wild. "Father, plea-"

"You sit, eat and drink with your uncle, rather than helping someone in need. You have simply discarded the idea of someone being in danger. You have never so much reminded me of your grandfather until now." Rhaegar was not yelling, but the impact was all the same. He had the cursed gift of doing that.

 _Rhaegar, no._ Rhaella thought in her mind as she saw Aegon's face darken with anger and pain. Her son was too much in his anger. He was hurting his only son.

"Your gran-" Rhaegar began.

"I'm not grandfather," Aegon practically growled. "I will never be him." Spittle expelled out from him and onto the table.

Elia wanted to speak, but Aegon beat her to it. "I don't burn people. And I don't strangle people! I'm not grandfather!"

Aegon's eyes flashed. "And I'm not you…I don't believe in meaningless prophecies... I don't run off with 14-year-old girls…I don't start wars..."  _Egg, calm down._

"Egg, please sit down," Dany pleaded. Aegon's face softened as he looked at her, but he went back to looking enraged and remained on his feet.

"And you are not Arianne either," Rhaenys added, her anger finally to the limit. She stood up and glared at Arianne. "You are not a whore either, brother." And then Arianne stood, face hot.  _What is this about?_

Rhaella found it odd why the rest didn't at least protest, especially the Sand Snakes. But she then realized why. She had a sickening feeling in her gut when Rhaegar and Elia slowly walked around the table.

Aegon didn't stop his words when his father was in front of him. "I did my fucking best, and you never acknowledge what I do! You always want to blame me and no one else! I did nothing wrong! I tried to keep our family from squabbling all the time, and you don't care! You don't care about me! You only care for yourself!" With every shout, Aegon stabbed Rhaegar in the chest with his finger. "Why are you so angry,  **father**? We have dragon eggs! We have Blackfyre!"

Rhaenys was arguing with Arianne, not aware that her mother was behind her. Tommen's cat hissed, almost in a warning.

But it was no use.

Rhaegar grabbed Aegon's finger and delivered a well-placed punch to his jaw. Aegon stumbled and fell to his back, his chair falling with him. Dany and Margaery gasped.

Elia grabbed Rhaenys by the arm, spun her around, and slapped her right on the eye. When Rhaenys reeled over, Elia slapped her across the face. And now Rhaenys lay beside her brother, crying softly and cradling her eye. Aegon was blinking slowly at the ceiling, mayhap finding it hard to see properly.  _This is what house Targaryen has come to..._

As soon as Rhaenys had been hit, Tommen's cat was in front of her body, staring at Elia. And as soon as Aegon got hit, Margaery flew to his side. Rhaella had grabbed Dany's hand when she looked ready to do the same. She shook her head, and her daughter understood. She and Aegon was something of the past. Dany's time in Dragonstone would be for naught if she couldn't control herself.

Oberyn went over to help Rhaenys up from the floor, and Rhaenys was wobbly getting to her feet. "Elia, why would you hit your child like this?" He asked as he gently tried to move Rhaeny's hand from her eye. But Rhaenys would not let him.

Dany's face sustained the look of despair as she watched as Margaery tried to lift Aegon from the floor. In the end, heart melting, Rhaella said, "Go to him, child." Dany rushed towards Aegon even before she completed her sentence. Aegon was finally on his feet with the combined help of Dany and Margaery.

"Our mother used to strike us to discipline us. But she mostly strikes you because you were the worst." Elia's smile came and goes as she looked at Rhaenys. "I didn't think I have to do the same for my daughter. Disappointment is a mother's worse nightmare." She walked to Rhaenys. "Don't force me to do this again, Rhaenys. What I just did has more meaning than a slap of punishment, my daughter. Learn from this and be a grown woman instead of a child."

Elia started to bring her hands to Rhaeny's face but thought better of it. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Rhaenys looked at her mother and nodded slowly, tears streaming down her face. Rhaella heart almost went out to her, but she thought of how much of this mess was because of her. It wasn't really Aegon's fault, despite what Rhaegar is claiming. Aegon only tried to keep the boat afloat.

"Please don't think that I don't love you. I'm just trying to help," Elia said softly. "Go lay down."

Rhaenys still cradle her eye as she walked out of the room, tears wetting her amber cheeks. Rhaella saw that guilt was in Arianne's eye before it quickly vanished, and the dornish princess once again looked indifferent. Rhaella had to fight to keep calm at that.  _I know that you had more than a hand in this..._

Apparently, Aegon regained his senses as he walked to the door without a word spoken. Rhaegar reached out for him, but Aegon slithered from his touch. "Don't touch me anymore," Aegon hissed, his eyes aflame. "Because it appears you can't touch me without harming me." He opened the door and closed the door with a bang.

Margaery and Dany started for the door.

"Dany," Rhaella said, staring pointedly at her. Dany sighed and nodded as she watched Margaery run out after Aegon.  _I know that you wish to be in her place, child, but it's a lost cause…_

An uneasy silence reigned in the room. They were at lost what to say or do, doing nothing but stare at each other. Rhaella put her hand against her temple whilst shaking her head to the side to side.

"Perhaps you were too harsh, Rhaegar," Dany said, back in her seat.

Rhaegar looked at her and Dany said, "They were ought to stop being foolish, yes, but not everything was terrible." She pointed at Blackfyre on the table and to the dragon eggs. "We have our sword back after gods know how long…and if what Jon Snow said is true, dragons will be returned to us."

"Her words are not without reason, your grace," Arthur remarked. "The good might outweigh the bad."

"And you found the rider that brings these eggs." Rhaella found herself saying. "The rider that you have been searching moons for. What are you going to do with him?" She looked hard at Rhaegar, trying to see what lies behind those often melancholy eyes. She had the idea that she would see the eagerness of being able to bring more fire breathing dragons to their name, or the eagerness of having a person who has more knowledge of dragons than he. She did see it all in his eyes. But there was something more to it…it was hesitance. Rhaella looked to Elia and saw the same in her eyes. It confused her.

Rhaegar turned his back to them. "Ser Jaime told us that Snow wants no gold, no glory. He wants nothing to do with us or politics. He only wants the Stark name, and I will give it to him. That is all." His words held nothing of the confidence that Rhaella was used to hearing.

"Rhaegar, do you know what you saying?" Viserys asked. He shared a look with her, both baffled. Everyone at the table was baffled, even Joffrey and Cersei. "You don't take opportunities for granted, like my marriage for one with Cersei." There was a bitter edge on the end of it.

"He knows what he is saying. You shan't question him on it," Elia said sharply.

"I beg to differ," Oberyn said lazily, swinging his legs on the table. "I don't like Jon Snow, everyone knows it. But I do know that you are wasting a grand thing by not making an alliance of some sort with that man. A fully grown dragon is more useful than baby dragons."

"I agree with my father," Tyene said sweetly.

"Rhaegar, my son, can we talk privately?" Rhaella asked him.

Her son only waited for a second before nodding. He gave on look to the room, and everyone got to their feet to leave. Viserys passed her with a raised eyebrow and left with Tommen, who was hugging his cat tightly.

Afterward, the kingsguard departed by the strength of Rhaegar's second nod. Rhaegar, Elia and she were the three left.

Rhaegar sat next to Elia with a heavy sigh. "You ought not to try to persuade me, my dear mother."

"I stand by him," Elia said determinedly. Rhaella wondered why so.

Rhaella smiled at Rhaegar. "Viserys is right, son. You haven't passed up a chance of growing our house yet. Viserys's loveless marriage with the lioness is a perfect example. And don't fail to notice Aegon's as well."

"Viserys," Rhaegar breathed out. "Oh, yes, I know. That union was to put the gold of Casterly Rock on my side." He touched his crown and frowned. "And now my own brother hates me."

"He doesn't hate you, Rhaegar." Rhaella wasn't fully confident in her answer, however. "You have given him  **Tommen** , a sweet boy. Do you see how Viserys looks at him? He can't hate you."

Rhaegar shook his head for the reply. "Do you see how he looks at Joffrey and Cersei? He can't stand to be near Cersei…and I think he is disappointed for what Joffrey is." He looked up at her. "And now Aegon hates me for denying him Dany." He then chuckled with no humor in it. "And don't forget that I punched him in the very same room we are in now."

"Do not doubt your worth as a king," Rhaella told him. "A firm hand is sometimes needed. You ought to discipline your children."

"You talk of me not having doubt yet you doubt me now in regards to Snow."

"You had him searched ever since the battle of Kingslanding. You offered gold, keeps, the place in the kingsguard, and you were disappointed when he didn't show." Rhaella touched his hand. "What changed?" Rhaegar and Elia didn't answer.

Then it clicked. "'Tis because of what you know of him now," Rhaella said. "You now know him as Jon Snow, the nephew of Lyanna Stark." Just by her name, there was a deep sadness in Rhaegar's eyes.

"You have that right," Elia said quietly. "I loved Lyanna – we both did." This time she rested her hand on Rhaegar's other hand.

"'Tis because of us she died," Rhaegar intoned sadly. "Dealing with dragons brought nothing but death and misery for the Starks. We will leave them be. Jon Snow will go back north. Please…do not bring up the matter of her or Jon Snow again."

 _They blame themselves._ Rhaella thought sadly, looking at them again. The sadness in Rhaegar's eyes then made her choke on tears. "I'm so sorry. I swear, as a mother, that you will not hear it from me again."

There was a knock on the door and the follow of Arthur's voice. "Your grace, Ashara Dayne wishes to speak."

"Let her in," Rhaegar ordered.

Walking in was the best friend of Elia and one of the most beautiful women in Westeros today. Black haired, slim waists, having haunting violet eyes, Men trip themselves over talking of Ashara Dayne. Some say that she is the mother of Jon Snow. And while Eddard Stark claimed that Snow's mother was from Lys, Rhaella can say that the man was only saving Ashara Dayne from shame.  _What shame would it be being the mother of a dragon rider?_

"Your grace." Ashara did a curtsy Arya Stark wished she did in the courtyard. "My king…oh, how handsome do you look today." She grinned.

"Do without the pleasantries, my friend of mine." Rhaegar offered a grin of his own. "Sit down and tell me what's on the mind."

Ashara did the first of it, kissing Elia on the cheek as she did so, but she took longer on the second. She chewed on her lip, nodded, and looked to them all. "Rhaegar, Lyanna, Rhaella, I want to talk about the murder of Gerold Dayne, my kin."

"I have thought of that," Rhaegar told her. "I offer you my condolences."

"I'm not going to grieve over him," Ashara scoffed softly. "And neither is Arthur. But he and I agreed on the same thing – we ought to have the one who kidnapped him in chains. Gerold Dayne is kin. Our house would be laughed at if we don't have justice."

"We will give you justice," Elia told her. "We will found the one responsible."

Ashara laughed lightly. "I think no search is needed."

"You have someone in mind?" Rhaella asked.

"Yes, Jon Snow," Ashara answered. A shiver ran down Rhaella's spine. Rhaegar and Elia looked surprised.

"Ashara, that's very bold and dangerous of accusing the rider so," Elia admonished. "And what proof do you have?"

Ashara smiled tightly. "The only proof that I need."

As if in a play, the door opened at the perfect timing. A big man, shaped like a rounded ball, stumbled into the room and dipped his head.

"What is your name?" Rhaegar asked him.

"S...S…Samwell Tarly, your grace." The fat man answered but floundered over his words. And his cheeks were flushed, either from wine or from his fat.

"The son of Randyll Tarly, correct?" Rhaella asked him. He had none of the attributes of his lord father, but neither did Lord Tyrion with his own father.

"Yes, your grace."

"And what proof do you have, Lord Tarly?" Elia asked.

"These." Samewell walked over to the table, and small shards of unknown sorts slipped out from his hands. "I found this at…the sight of where Gerold's body was found…"

Rhaegar picked one up and examined it. "These are from dragon eggs," He noted.

Samwell nodded fervently. "They are. We all know that Cannibal used to eat other dragons, don't we?" Everyone nodded. "Then I can say, very confidently, that Cannibal laid these eggs and…ate them."

Rhaella's motherly instincts wanted to deny that mothers would never kill their own children, but she was forced to see reason. She had read about the wild dragon.

"How does this concern Jon Snow, Samwell?" Ashara asked. Rhaella knew that she knew the answer beforehand.

"This tells us that Cannibal was  **there** , as was Jon Snow. Who else can tie Gerold Dayne to that tree?" Samwell asked, his nervous tone completely overridden with confidence.  _He would make a good maester._ Rhaella thought idly.

Ashara attacked the silence. "And Jaime Lannister told me the clearing was demolished, trees snapped in half, and leaves scattered about. A real hell, he said. What kind of beast can make a hell like that?"

"A dragon," Elia said quietly.

"That's not all…" Ashara looked towards Samwell so he can continue.

Samwell swallowed. "I…I…have seen Jon Snow abduct Gerold Dayne…"

_Someone's words can seal a man's fate…_

"And you said nothing?" Rhaella asked. "You have seen this with your own eyes and you said nothing?"

Samwell gulped audibly, and he chuckled nervously. "After Jon Snow knocked Gerold Dayne unconscious, he saw that I was watching. He told me that I can't tell anyone. I don't think I could've done anything." He glanced at his big gut and laughed sheepishly.

"At ease, Tarly. All that I've heard these days is Jon Snow's sword arm. People say that he is Ser Duncan come again, and I can see it is somewhat valid. And I have seen Snow fight before, at the Blackwater, it was," Rhaegar told them. "The important part is that you have come before us now."

"And what are we to do, Rhaegar?" Elia asked him. "You just said that he is a prodigy with a sword. He also has a dragon."

"I will think of something, my queen," Rhaegar responded.  _If you have any plans into holding that dragon, Rhaegar, please provide me an explanation. I want to hear it and laugh at it._

"And what of the things he has done for us?" Elia demanded. "He saved us from the free cites, returned Blackfrye, gave us dragon eggs, becoming friends with Aegon…"

"I know, my love. 'Tis not fair." Rhaegar grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. "But I have to do my duty as the king. No one is safeguarded from the law. No one can escape the king's justice. I will show him mercy and offer him the night's watch. 'Tis the least we can do."

"And what of Lyanna?" Elia's lips trembled violently. She was almost in tears. "We are scheming against her nephew, Rhaegar. We are shaming her memory…"

Suddenly, Rhaegar looked thrice the age he was now. "I know…The others take me for doing so," He swore. He looked up to the ceiling as though he can look into the clouds themselves. "Lyanna…please forgive us…"

**Jon**

He walked in his room with his mind troubled from what he has seen. Watching Rhaenys get a slap across the face quickly made him regret warging into Tommen's cat. By no means had he expected to be this distressed of Rhaenys getting hurt.

' _Tis because she is my sister._ He knew that isn't an actual explanation. He wasn't fooling anybody. Aegon was his brother and got punched by a grown man rather than a grown woman, and Jon wasn't as concerned for him.

Did Rhaenys deserve the hit on the eye? That was another issue. He heard all and seen all through Ser Pounce…and he can say that she did. The princess did make most of the fuss, though it was for him.

Jon sat on the edge of his bed, scratching his scalp jadedly as he thought back to what Rhaenys was yelling at Arianne about. Whore, man-stealer, bewitching, was most of what she said.

But she did It all for him. He understands that now. But he was still in a disagreement with himself. He was still angry about what she did. And there was nothing to come out of mingling with her, for she was his sister. And there a piece of him that was feeling guilty for pushing her away when she was trying to get closer. For that all, Jon was a one torn man.

"'Tis better to focus on the melee," Jon told himself. "I said a hundred times that I'm going to win it all. I can't go back on what I've said." Bronn, Tyrion, Sandor, Gerris, and Daemon would laugh at him.

After the melee, there was going to be the singing competition, and then the joust, and then the archery competition. He does not want to try out for the archery competition; he will leave that for Theon. That Grejoy can do the most with that bow of his.

His musings were put to an end when the door to his chamber opened with a creaky groan.

 _I failed to remember to bar my door._ Jon deadpanned in his mind. Was he this stressed over Rhaenys? His sister is fine from what he can tell. She was probably abed.

"You ought to learn the courtesy of knocking, princess," Jon said. "You have no note of what a man could be doing."

Arianne smirked at him as she closed the door. "Why would I knock when a man does not bar the door?" She asked as if that was the only thing needed to be explained.

"You opened the door before you even had the thought of knocking, didn't you?" Jon accused lightly. However, he would've been more serious if Ghost was in the room.

"Yes, yes, and grass is green. Did you notice that as well?" Arianne asked sarcastically. Jon took note that she bar the door.

"Your sarcasm ca-" Jon cut himself off before he even began. He then took note of what the princess was wearing, a see-through gown. Her big brown nipples were on full display. Jon stopped his eyes from descending because he knew what he would see.

"Why are you here?" Jon tried to keep his eyes in touch with her amused brown ones, feeling his groin stir and jump.

"I have a gift for you." Arianne smiled sweetly. "I have two, and I think you might like the second one better than the first."

"What's first?" Jon asked. He pushed himself off the bed and sat in his chair at the table. It was mostly to watch her better from afar.

"This." Arianne revealed a parcel. Jon knew it to be a horn from the shape of it. She tossed it to him, and he easily caught it one-handed.

He sagged in his chair and began tearing the parcel apart, knowing that Arianne was watching him as she stood.

In light of knowing what he would see, the horn still surprised him. It was a large war-harm and tipped silver written in foreign languages.  _It's high Valyrian._ Jon noted as he eyed the carvings.

"'Tis the horn of Daeron I Targaryen," Arianne told him, toying with her necklace.

Jon looked at her sharply. "Do you jest?"

"Not when it comes to you," Arianne said. "The horn was retrieved after he was killed. Then it was placed in Sunspear."

"And you are giving it to me?"

Arianne flashed a flirty smile that would seduce men that had seen her born and younger boys the age of Bran. "Anything for you," Arianne whispered.

Jon flipped the horn in the air and caught it. "I thank you. I know exactly how I'm going to put this in use." With no warning, he stood, licked his lips, put his upper lip into the opening of the horn, and took a good deep breath. He then smoothly exhaled into the horn, his lips vibrating intensely.

What came out would be the talk for the upcoming days to come. A long single blast echoed throughout the castle that lasted for 2 whole minutes, such was the intensity of the blow. When the blast waned into silence, Jon heard yells, laughter, yelps, and hurried footsteps from behind his door.

"What the fuck was that!"

"'Tis a sign of an attack!"

"Get the bloody king!"

"Everyone calm the fuck down! It's just a HORN, you stupid fucks! Stop that yapping!" That was Sandor. And his roar was almost as loud as the horn, and everything went quiet.

Jon shook his head with a smile. "Trust Sandor to keep the peace."

Arianne laughed. "You are a different sort of a man that I'm used to, Jon Snow," She told him.

Jon nodded and looked down at the horn. "I liked this gift, but you said the second one was better. What is it?" He looked up at her, his eyes observant.

Arianne's eyes darkened with lust. She lifted the end of her gown, baring her smoothed-shaved cunt to him. "I think you know what it is," She said lowly, her brown eyes locking with his.

Jon stared at it, his length hardened to the max. He then stood up and groped for a glass on the table, pouring himself a healthy amount.

"'Tis not just a gift for you, it's for me too," Arianne said.

Jon gulped some wine down, his back facing her. "You have done right by me," he admitted casually. The horn left on the table agreed with him silently.

"I have. Come, lie with me." He heard her flop on the bed.

Whenever he faced a decision, he asked 'Why this can't happen or why not?' And now he can't see any hard proof reasoning why he can't sleep with Arianne. He sees no consequences if they were discreet.

Then he thought of Rhaenys…watching as she cried on the floor after getting punished by her lady mother. His hands clenched as the unwanted emotions bashed into him. Rhaenys wronged him. Arianne hasn't. He shouldn't be feeling like this. A beautiful woman on his bed gave him a gift and is offering herself to him, and he is hesitating? When was the last time he even slept with a woman?

He set the glass on the table and looked to Arianne who was taking off her jewels and golden bracelets and putting them on the small table beside the bed. She removed her golden headband circlet and headrace it on the table too. She then raised an eyebrow when she saw him looking and not acting.

"Did anyone see you come?" Jon asked.

Arianne gave a quirk of a smile and shook her head. She crossed her thick legs and put her head on top of her joined hands.

Jon crossed his arms. "You have come to a very dangerous place, princess of Dorne." He smirked. "You are not coming out unscathed."

Arianne matched his smirk with on her own, albeit more seductive. "Are you going to ravage me, white wolf?" She narrowed her eyes and smiled when he nodded. "Then you are not coming out unscathed either. My house words are Unbent, unbowed, unbroken."

"Your house's words will be undone when I am finished with you," Jon promised. He was rock hard. For a brief moment, Rhaenys's smiling face flashed in his mind, but he pushed it away with a blink of an eye.

Arianne stood up and beckoned him over, her dark eyes taunting. He did not need to be told twice. He strode up to her and captured her lips. Her mouth opened invitingly and he wasted no time exploring with his tongue. Saliva met saliva, tongue met tongue, nose met nose, as he and Arianne battled for leverage. So far, because of Arianne's shortness, he was winning.

Her mouth tasted of Arbor Gold. It was sweet and warm. Jon attacked her mouth as if it was the last thing he can do. His arms wrapped around her waist as he started planting kisses on her collarbone. Arianne's moan turned into a pleasant squeal when he harshly groped one of her large tits. They both paused to look down as Jon playfully touched them, making them go up and down.

Jon then tugged on her blasted gown. "Take it off," he growled. He watched with dark eyes as Arianne did just that, exposing her exquisite, brown curvy body. He admired her for half a second before kissed her again, his hands running over her bare body.

His hand slipped down and rubbed her cunt. Arianne moaned loudly in her mouth, and she helped him go faster by adding her own hand. Her moans grew louder against his mouth. Arianne worked her hands over his tunic before it was flying to somewhere in the room.

Arianne was unlacing his pants, but Jon grabbed her hand and grinned. "Nuh huh. I want something from you." He then picked her up, his hands grabbing a handful of her fat arse. He dropped her on the bed.

Arianne let out a breathless giggle as Jon kissed from her belly to down below. "Oh, my…the wolf has a grand appetite." She gripped his dark curls when his lips found her core.

Jon gripped each of her thighs and sucked at her entrance. His tongue sprang about around her flaps. Deeper and deeper did he go into her cunt, tracing paths and what not. Arianne's throatily moans and her tight grip on his scalp urged him to eat her out at a fast pace.

Soon, it seems like Arianne was about to tear his hair from his roots as she squirmed and moaned. "Shit...shit…shit," She murmured as if in a mantra. He looked up to see her eyes were closed in pleasure.

Jon only pressed his tongue farther, licking up the sweetness.

When Arianne started arching her back, Jon knew her climax was coming. His did swipes back and forth, urging her on.

It was on the fifth swipe when Arianne gripped his hair with both hands and cried out. Jon felt her shudder before she climaxed on his tongue. It came like a river, and he licked up the fluids eagerly.

He leaned back and admired his work. He then looked at Arianne who was breathing heavily. "You taste sweet, princess."

Arianne awakened from the state she was in and laughed breathlessly. "And I can imagine you taste sweat as well." Jon got to his feet, and she got off the bed. Arianne dropped to her knees, her fingers working on the laces of his pants. "Now it's my turn." She smiled deviously.

The horrible captivity his cock was in was freed in the cold air. Arianne wrapped her hands around it and stroked it, chuckling. "You are a big one." Jon shivered at her touch, wanting nothing more than to shove it in her mouth.

Arianne looked up at him and tortured him with a slow, wet lick to the side of his length. She repeated it twice before taking him whole in her mouth. Jon growled and fisted her raven black hair as she bobbed her head to take him again and again. Her other hand teased him by playing with his ball sack. Jon begins to buck hips in tandem. He grabbed the sides of her head to force himself deeper into her mouth. He kept her in place with her mouth covering much of his length. She sputtered and coughed, and Jon released her. Saliva was dripping from her chin.

Arianne gripped his shaft with two hands and took him inside of her mouth again. She stroke and sucked him at once. His cock was shiny and wet as Arianne continued to slob sloppily. Strings of saliva fell from his cock and her mouth onto the floor.

Jon began to twitch and groan, for Arianne was relentless. She didn't stop or slow down. She was bobbing her head so fast that spittle was flying into the air. She plunged…plunged…and plunged.

Her mouth and her tongue were so warm…Jon knew he couldn't last. Her expert hands had a life of their own, and they were working to his death.

His cock tightened, and Jon swept his hand through Arianne's dark locks and braced himself for his end. He groaned as his hot sperm sprayed into Arianne's mouth. It expelled from his tip and onto her tongue. Arianne did not cease her, though she slowed her pace a tad bit.

"Shit…" Jon watched her in amazement as she kissed his tip and grinned at him, opening her mouth wide, showing a sea of white fluids.

Arianne swallowed and came up from her knees. Her smile was of heat and desire. She caressed his chest with both of her wet hands. "Do you want to go further? Or are you tired?"

"I can do this all day." Jon walked by her and lay on the bed, looking at her expectedly. "You say that you can give me the best ride of my life. Show me if princesses can stay true to their word."

Arianne gave him a predatory smile and walked to the bed. She swung her thick legs to the sides of him and pressed her hands to his chest. Jon grabbed his cock and aimed it on the flap. Arianne lifted herself and dropped her arse on it with a wet clap, his cock buried entirely.

Pleasure…tight…warmth...That was all that Jon was thinking of as Arianne started to grind against him. He moved his hips to meet her.  _It has been too long…_

"Jon Snow!" Arianne cried as she began to move faster. Her gaze did not break away from his as she moaned. Then she rode him forcefully and yet in a steady rhythm.

Her wet cunt left him and came down again, squeezing the life out of his hard length. Jon gazed up at her and grabbed both of her tits in hand. He growled when Arianne scratched his chest. He buckled harder, making her scream.

Arianne dropped her head on the side of his neck, and Jon joined his hands against her backside and rocked his hips upward continually.

"Yes, Yes, Yes," was what Arianne panted in his ear.

Jon then pulled her off him. He shifted her on her back and spread her legs wide. They were belly to belly as Jon thrust his tip into her warmth. Arianne wrapped her legs around him as he fucked her.

The room was loud with moans from both of them and the wet squeaks as Jon slammed his cock into her. They bucked in unison. Jon found himself losing sanity as his length went deeper with each thrust.  _She is so tight…_

Arianne let out a high-pitched scream as her walls tightened around him. Jon kissed her roughly to smother the noise. They both came at the same time. Jon panted as he spilled his seed deep in her core.

Arianne dropped her legs from his back, and Jon rolled off her. They said nothing as they breathed heavily; sweat rolling down their naked bodies.

Suddenly, Rhaenys's face came back to his mind. Then there was guilt. The guilt now seemed never-ending. He was about to choke on it. It felt wrong to be fucking another girl while Rhaenys mourns in her room.

Arianne rose up on her elbow and smiled at him. "That was a good fuck. I can see that you enjoyed it. See? Princesses can keep their words."

He did enjoy it, no matter the guilt. He tried to smirk at her. "'Tis true then, princess of Dorne. And apparently, I couldn't break you."

"Do not ignore that I made you howl." She smiled proudly.

Jon nodded to her proud claim. "I am a wolf. They are supposed to howl." He looked at her from the corner of her eye, watching as her long hair fall upon her bare shoulders. "And I made you  **moan.** Snakes are to hiss not moan."

Arianne chuckled and swatted him on the shoulder. "I'm not a snake, Snow. That is my uncle Oberyn and his children."

Her face then changed and she leaned in to kiss him. Jon accepted the kiss. They did it for a moment before Jon picked her up, gathered her gown, opened his door, and left her outside.

Arianne tightened her gown over her naked body after he threw it to her, too shocked to speak. Afterward, when Jon gave her back her jewels and bracelets, she opened her mouth in outrage. But Jon already closed the door in her face.

"What the fuck!" Arianne banged on the door from the other side. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?" She shouted.

"I want to get ready for the melee and I don't want you to distract me," Jon responded. That wasn't the full answer, however. "Cover yourself, princess. You don't want anybody other than me to gaze upon your magnificent arse, do you?"

"Damn it, Jon! Let me back in! I want to lie beside you! I promise I won't distract you," Arianne said.

"I don't believe that. Cover yourself, Arianne."

"This is not fair!"

"Punching me is not fair, princess," Jon retorted retrieving his clothes from the floor and putting them back on.

"Why do you st-" She kicked the door and then laughed. "Your irritating, Jon Snow…" Jon heard her chuckle and walk away.

Jon listened to her fading footsteps, and he then collapsed in his chair. The guilt that he was hiding from Arianne came pounding towards him thrice over. He was starting to regret sleeping with the princess.

_Why am I being ungrateful? I just fucked the most beautiful woman in Dorne. And she is a princess. Theon would brand me a fool if he knows what I'm thinking. And Tyrion would think I prefer men. Why do I think of Rhaenys when my seed is still warm in her cousin's womb?_

Jon sat in his chair, drinking wine as a result of doing his best to not think of his older sister. Having enough of tormenting himself, Jon slammed the glass down on the table and started for the door.  _I have to see her._

When he opened the door and move through the doorframe, Robb was standing there by his own doorframe, gawking to the direction Jon knew Arianne left.

Robb spun his head to him at the sound of him opening the door. The Stark was only wearing pants whilst his upper body was bare. Robb's mouth was slightly agape and his blue eyes wide in wonderment.

They stared at each other in silence.

"You know?" Jon asked when he had enough of the two of them looking like gaping fools.

Robb weakly gestured to his door. "My room is next to yours, Jon…Alys and I heard everything…'Tis was quite loud…the bed moving…the screams…the moans…"

"Robb," Alys's voice fluttered from the room. "He slept with a woman before the melee starts, get over it! Leave him be!"

"You didn't see which woman he slept with!" Robb called back, presumably looking at his wife. Jon saw Greywind's massive grey head peeking from behind Robb.

Robb looked back towards him, a smile slowly creeping on his face. "You slept with Princess Arianne," he whispered. "And don't lie to me. I opened the door just in time to see her walking down the corridor."

"I did sleep with her," Jon admitted in a whisper. He then decided to give his cousin a smirk. He didn't want to have him see he was having problems. "She said that she would give me the best ride of my life. Robb, that was no idle boast…"

Robb choked on his laughter. And Greywind bumped his head against his side. The Stark then gave him a grin that Jon was very familiar with. "'Tis a smart thing to get the blood pumping before a fight…and didn't I say that you will not brood as much?"

"You did."

"We shall see, Jon," Robb declared. "Wait until Theon and Domeric hear of this." Greywind went back into the room.

"If you tell them, I will beat you bloody, Robb," Jon threatened. "And I will do the same to them so they can't tell anyone."

Robb only laughed and went back into his room, closing his door softly.

….

Jon stared at the wooden door of Rhaenys's chamber. There was not a peep inside there. Mayhap she was sleeping... Jon would do the same if he got a slap over the eye like she did.  _I think it's best to leave her be._

He was becoming more convinced by the thought, but his hand was inching toward the doorknob. To his shock, the door opened easily.

 _Does Targaryens not bar their doors?_ Jon didn't give it much thought. What he saw before him he did.

Rhaenys Targaryen was not abed. She was wide awake, sitting in her chair that was close to the fire, and petting a cat that was on her lap with one hand while the other cradled her eye. His sister was watching the hearth burn before he came in. She now watched him silently.

The cat perked its head up and hissed at him.  _That is the cat Tommen was talking about._

He was so determined then, thinking of coming to her before, but he was at lost for words to say at this time. His mask of neutrally was his only saving grace.

"Hello, Jon," Rhaenys said.

"Hello, princess."

Her eyes narrowed in irritation. "Leave if you can't say my name. I did it for you…"

_You've done a lot of things for me, Rhaenys._

Jon chuckled and said, "We are already off to a poor start."

Rhaenys clicked her teeth. " **Jon** , please close the door and take a seat. Our much-needed discussion will decide what the ending will be of our meeting."

_Will it end with us cursing each other?_

He closed and bar the door. He seated himself in a chair, a respectful distance from Rhaenys. Though, Balerion would not stop giving eyefuls.  _He and I are off to a bad start too._

Rhaenys took note of the space between them. "Jon, sit closer to me," She bid him softly. Her one brown eye stared at him expectedly.

"I'd rather not."

She looked to the fire. Jon thought she was disappointed. "Why are you here if you don't want to be near me?" Rhaenys whispered harshly.

"Pr-"

"You didn't have such qualms when you used sorcery on that raven."

_Of all people, she is the only one who figured it out aside from Tyrion…_

Jon didn't say anything. Rhaenys laughed ruefully. "Not going to say anything are you, Jon? Even in my own room, you ignore me."

"I have magic," Jon told her, not knowing what to say to her last comment. "It's called warging. I'm able to take control of any creature."

"Fuck, Jon. I don't care about your magic," Rhaenys said. "I care about why are you here in  **my** room talking to me. Why now?"

Jon looked at her, finally deciphering her current mood. There was anger that she was trying to hold back. There was pain too, in her eyes, no matter how hard it is to see it.

 _Am I unknowingly hurting her?_ Jon wondered as he looked at the eye Rhaenys was cradling and the tranquil anger in the other.

Then it hit him.  _We are both hurting each other._ This row between them did more harm than good. And the row was starting to affect the people around them. Jon can see Aegon getting more stressed. He and Rhaenys have to work something out.

"Is your eye ok, Rhaenys?" Jon asked carefully.

Rhaenys's face went rigid. She turned her face. "I got slapped for you and I get nothing in return, nothing," She muttered, stroking her cat more forcefully. "I fought my cousin for a boy that does not return my affections…I get nothing. I disappointed my parents for a boy…and got nothing…"

Jon's eyes narrowed in steel resolve. He stood to his feet and began walking towards her. Balerion was hissing once more, and Rhaenys almost seem to be crushing the cat as such was the strength from her strokes. "Don't come near me…all this time and you suddenly want to come near me? I'll set Balerion on you if you take another step."

Jon didn't believe her. He saw through her bluff. Her threat was as real as Bran hurting a fly. "I want to see your eye, Rhaenys."

She shook her head. "As a princess, I command you to leave my chamber." He was almost touching her now. Balerion was almost ready to jump at him. "I want you out of my life, boy."

"Do you really want this boy to leave, Rhae?" Jon asked her. He wanted to wary of the cat, but he wanted to not appear shaken in front of the princess. He cannot be weak here. He will take a couple of cat marks. "Do you remember when we danced?" It seemed like a lifetime ago.

A small smile appeared on her lips but instantly disappeared. He saw it and pressed on. "'This is the boy you danced with. This is the boy that you didn't want to let go at that time; no women ever held me like that. This is the boy that you said you wanted to be around with."

Balerion's teeth were on his tunic. He was about to bite any second now. The cat's growl was vibrating his stomach. To Jon's credit, he did not look at the cat but at his older sibling.

"You didn't want to let me go then. How is this different?" Jon asked softly. "Do you want me to walk away from you, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen?" Rhaenys continued to look at the hearth rather than him.

 _Oh, fuck_. He thought when Balerion hissed loudly and opened his mouth to bite him.  _This is going to hurt._

"Get down, Balerion! Get down, Balerion!" Rhaenys ordered, causing the cat to close his mouth and hop from the princess's lap. The grumpy kitten went under the bed and was not a burden furthermore.

Jon was relieved despite telling himself that he would not care for the kitten biting him. He saw those teeth…they looked sharp.

Rhaenys did not look up at him, nor did she answer his question. But her actions were enough to assure him. He took this as a win.

 _You still want the boy you claimed that treats you wrong._   _You don't want me to walk from you._

Jon gently grabbed Rhaenys's hand and moved it from her eye. During this, Rhaenys looked up at him from her seat. Her eye was sealed shut, a dark blue. The space around her eye was swelled. Jon touched her cheek, his fingers a safe distance from her bruise.

"You saw my mother hit me, didn't you?" Rhaenys asked quietly. "You mayhap used Tommen's cat…by using that 'warg'. You…you stood by me when I fell…"

"I did what I can," Jon replied shortly. "Why don't you see a maester?" He admonished lightly.

Rhaenys gently shifted her head from his grasp. "'Tis pride, Jon. Pride will perhaps be the death of me and you. Pride led you to humiliate Gerold Dayne in the great hall. Pride led me to clash with my cousin, my favorite cousin. Pride led me to get a black eye. And it is pride that prevents you and me from apologizing for the wrongdoing we did to each other."

_She has the right of it._

Jon was not perfect, but he can admit that he did not handle the row with Rhaenys well. He could've done more. They both could've.

"I shan't allow my pride to harm others anymore," Jon said, surprising Rhaenys. "Princess Rhaenys of house Targaryen, may I have your favor?"

Rhaenys still retained her exotic beauty despite the black eye. And it was that beautiful face that looked at him in curiosity, as a cat would look to a mouse. "You would ask for mine instead of Arianne's?"

"Why would I do that?" He challenged.

"You smell of her," Rhaenys said calmly, though Jon can hear anger lurking form underneath the surface. "I know the smell of her wretched perfume. You have been around her."  _Not just that. I've slept with her too..._

Her eyes were narrowing in suspicion and displeasure. Jon hurried to say, "Damn you, Rhaenys. Am I not here begging for your favor? I only want yours, not anybody else's." He hoped that she didn't see the guilt in his eyes, for his mind was being broken down by it.

Rhaenys nodded at his explanation, breaking her gaze. She was fighting a smile on her lips. She pointed behind her. "It's on the table."

Jon walked over there and had to smile. It was a black cloth with a white snarling direwolf stitched on the front.

"You were expecting me to ask you," Jon accused as he picked the cloth up.

"Aye, I was," Rhaenys said without shame. "I stitched it together after our dance."

_Damn. She was planning far ahead._

Then silence fell. They talked for five minutes but couldn't break the ice. There were too many incidents for them to talk at ease. Not to mention that neither of them apologized for what they did.

"I will put it in good use," Jon told her. Rhaenys chose to look at the fire instead. "I will take my leave." He didn't know what he accomplished by coming here, but it felt worth it. But now he has to depart.

Rhaenys only nodded.

However, at the moment Jon was about to grab the doorknob, Rhaenys said, "Jon, wait…" He looked at her to see she was staring at him in what Jon figured as sadness. Jon didn't know what he did to make her feel so.

"I want to ask you a question before you leave…do you think you and I can go back to what it was before despite what happened?"

That was not a simple question. Jon was getting uncomfortable. This was more than a chat. It was considerably more intimate than he was used too. Rhaenys probably had done this in the past. Jon hasn't.

"We shall see," Jon said.

Rhaenys turned her head back to the hearth, but he wasn't done.

"Why did you do all of this? Why did you make all this fuss? Why are you doing for a boy that did you more harm than good?" Jon found himself asking. He had to find the truth.

He waited patiently as she looked at her hands in thought. After that, she turned and smiled at him. Jon's heart quickened by the brightness of it. He wanted to scowl because it was beating more rapidly as Rhaenys continued to smile knowingly. Why was she doing that? He doesn't know. Why his heart was acting weird? He doesn't know. It was something he was now calling as unnatural. He wanted to look away but couldn't.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow."


	21. Chapter 21

**Robb**

He normally likes surprises. He usually dishes it out himself, mostly on Jon and his younger siblings. Back in the north, they've called him the mischief wolf, for all the pranks he did and all the jests he had said in Winterfell. They've called him the young wolf too because Jon also had a moniker. Jon can't have all the love.

But this…this was not a welcoming surprise, not at all.

He and Jon were standing in the corridor, both adorned in their armor. Robb wanted to go simple and only wore a dull grey suit with chainmail underneath. His Valyrian sword was at his hip. He didn't want to patter about with armor that wouldn't help him in a real fight. Jon, on the other hand, did not restrain himself when it comes to his appearance. The armor was something to be feared and loved. Silver it was, with dragon scales a cherry on the top. The gauntlets and the greaves were of blackened steel. The breastplate was akin to cooled silver. Robb never saw armor like this. And he never saw a helm like the one Jon was holding in hand. The helmet matched the color of the armor and etched with beautiful designs. Jon's hair was put in a ponytail, so it won't get in his eyes, though some stubborn strands of hair touched his forehead.

And on his back was a double-headed valyrion ax. The man even has a horn for fuck's sake!

"What the fuck," was Jon's calm remark. That was the perfect response to what's happening. Robb wondered on how he said it so calmly.

Men with the Targaryen sigils emblazoned on their chest plates held out their spears out in a wall. And behind him and Jon were more men, their spears aimed at their head.

The onlookers in the hall were standing and whispering loudly. Some were running to presumably tell others of what's going about.

"I demand to know what's going on," Robb said, scowling as he looked at the spears around them. "My brother and I were just going to yard for the melee. We can't be late. We have fans. Surely you understand?"

One of the men stepped forward, his face stern. "Jon Snow, you are to come with us." The man to his left brought him a rope. There were gasps all around them.

"On whose orders?!" Robb and Jon demanded at the same time.  _Does that person not know who Jon is? This is ridiculous._

"The king's orders," the man replied. He shook the rope forcibly. "Come now, don't make this harder than it is."

Robb growled. "This is fucking ridiculous! The north will not stand for this! If you think you can tak-"

There was a clank as the ring of men started and steadied their weapons. Confused, Robb glanced to his left to see that Jon's ax was in hand. Choosing to do the same, Robb revealed his sword to the world.

Jon's face was hard as he coolly regarded the men. The silence was tense, and Robb clenched his jaw and his grasp on the sword.

Just when Robb was getting agitated, Jon lowered his ax and spoke, "Fine then, I will come with. I will not shed blood in Lady Whent's home." He tossed his ax, and it slid across the floor until it by the feet of the man.

"Good choice," one of the men remarked, picking up the ax.

Jon snapped his head to where he was, holding his hand out as the rope was being fastened on his wrists. "Don't think this was for my own good. I'd say you are the lucky ones. Thank my brother for being here, for I did nothing wrong."

"We shall see," the same man said.

"Robb, put my helm on," Jon told him. "I don't want to face anybody right now."

"Understandable. Nothing is going to happen to you." Robb moved forward and placed the helm on his cousin's head. He gripped the sides and looked Jon in the eye. "What have you done?" He whispered.

"As this man said – we shall see."

"House Stark is going to stand by you…"

"I'm not going to war, Robb."

"You might as well have!" When he realized that he screamed, Robb fought to lower his voice. "The king is bringing you in chains for a reason. He knows that you have a dragon. This is something greater than I know…so what did you do?"

Jon's lilac eyes from behind his helm narrowed as he contemplated. Then it narrowed in confusion…and then surprise. "No, it can't be," Jon whispered. "Damn it…he promised…what was I going to do? Kill an innocent?"

"What?" Robb blinked. "You've killed somebody?"

"Not technically…"

"Jon…what the fuck!"

"Get a move on!" A man from the back of them gave Jon a shove. "We don't have all day."

Robb craned his neck to the man as they started walking, him and Jon in the center of the spears. "Oh, yes, we don't," His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "We were just on our way to the fucking melee before all you fuckers decided to-"

"My lord, you can leave at any time you wish."

"I'm not leaving my brother," Robb said firmly. He turned back around and rested his hand on Jon's shoulder plate. "We will go through this together." They've been doing this since they were born.

Clanks, clanks, clanks, they walked throughout the castle. The news spread fast it seems, for every corner was plenty of people watching them, whispering loudly. Their facial expressions were all different, but the shock was palpable. And when they passed, people would follow them.

"What did you mean back there?" Robb spoke softly to Jon. "You ought to tell me everything…"

"Those men were after me, you know that," Jon began without preamble. "And you know that someone told them where my location was, correct?"

Robb nodded but then realized that Jon couldn't see him. "Yes, I was there, you know."

"It was that bastard, Gerold Dayne. He was the one behind it." Jon clenched his hands, turning them into a scary white, before uncurling them. "So, to put this short, I bashed him over the head and took him to where I thought no one would find him."

"So technically you did kill him." Robb sighed and rubbed his temple. "Yes, he was put in by a bear, but you were the cause of it."

"Yes."

Robb looked up, and he knew that his eyes were beginning to redden. "Why did you do-"

Jon turned his body so quickly that Robb was surprised that his armor didn't make a sound, not  **one**.

"I did it for me, but most of all, for you." Jon's reply was calm, but Robb can hear the threat of anger emerging. "That cunt had the gall to try to kill you and me…I 'm in the fucking right…he tried to kill me. You think I should've done nothing?"

"I'm not," Robb whispered fiercely. "But there were other alternatives. You could have told somebody. Hells, Aegon was the best choice. He seems to like you enough." He leaned in closer. "And he is your brother," He whispered knowingly.

"No one would've believed me," Jon responded. "I had no testimony. He attempted to murder us. We should be the ones to deliver justice."

"We didn't deliver justice," Robb said wryly. "The bear did."

"ROBB! JON!" Came the sound of Arya's and Alys's voices. Robb and Jon turned to see his mother, Alys, Arya, Bran, Rickon and Sansa standing to the side. Their faces were scrunched up, and their eyes were mixed with confusion and anger.

Robb only shook his head and gave a pointed look to Arya and Rickon, knowing those two were the most likely to do something impulsive. They all wanted answers, but they couldn't have any at this moment.

The procession stopped and the murmurs increased. At the front, three men parted to let a single man through. And it was not an ordinary man. A tall man, wearing the signature cloak of the kingsguard, stopped before them to regard Jon. He didn't even look at Robb.

Robb felt his jaw go slack when he registered the man before him in his mind, never mind the greatsword on his back. This man was a legend.

"Jon Snow," the man greeted cordially, albeit cool.

"Ser Arthur Dayne," Jon greeted back, just as cool. The smile on his face was grim. "I never thought I would greet the sword of the morning under such circumstances. I always thought it would be me and you crossing swords under the eyes of thousands."

Arthur dipped his head slightly. "I had that picture in mind ever since I've heard of you across the Narrow Sea, although you have brought these circumstances on yourself when you abducted my cousin."

"What!

"Jon Blackscale abducted Gerold Dayne!"

"Never would I think the hero of Kingslanding would do this sin!"

"I don't believe this farce!"

"I know he didn't do it! Free Jon Blackscale!"

"Our beloved king thinks he is guilty! Throw him in the darkest cell we have!"

"His dragon will burn us all! Free him before it's too late!"

"Free Jon Blackscale!"

"Throw him in the cell!"

"Free Jon Blackscale!"

"Throw him in the cell!"

"Free Jon Blackscale!"

"Throw him in the cell!"

"Free Jon Blackscale!"

The chants were loud as the people made their will known. The fists banging on the doors and walls only added to the intensity of the chant. Their cries all differed in opinion and volume. Half of them mayhap thought what they spat out as facts. Robb was sure he would go deaf.

Jon and Arthur had a stare down that Robb was sure would go down in history. One almost seemed indifferent, and one seemed almost ready to attack.

"Ser Arthur Dayne," Jon began, his voice cool and smooth, "What fate befallen upon your cousin was what he mayhap deserved."

"Not a single soul can escape the king's justice," Arthur said. "Not even you, a dragon rider. What good king would ignore what you have done?"

"You will find me innocent," Jon said. "And I will show you what justice is when we cross paths in the melee." He did what he could for a gesture that signaled for them to go on with his hands tied.

Arthur almost looked sympathetic. "You will be found guilty. What is ahead of you is not what you thought would be, Jon Snow." Robb was sure that he saw pity in his eyes. And what confidence he had was slowly breaking down by bits.  _Jon, what have you gotten into now? Do we have to get that dragon? Gods…_

**Mya**

She was in Rhaenys's chamber. She and the princess were abed, staring at the canopy, gossiping. What they were discussing, however, was something else entirely…

"And he asked why I'm doing all of this for a boy…and I told him he knows nothing," Rhaenys said lowly. "He looked so confused…so adorable…"  _I wonder how confused he looked._ The princess dragged her kitten into bed with her, and she stroked him as she stared at the canopy.

"I don't why he was confused or is confused. I thought I was very clear to him…doesn't he feels the same? Is that why he is confused?"

Mya had been patiently listening to Rhaenys as she talked about Jon, but she decided to speak, "Are you actually clear? You might not be to others, Rhaenys. Jon might not understand. He probably doesn't understand any of this. If I can take the chance, I would say that he is new to this. There is a chance that he feels the same. Perhaps he is only accustomed to having women throwing themselves at him. What you want to offer him is not like that."

Rhaenys took to staring at her as she spoke. Mya had no reservations of looking at her black-eye. She knew better. She knew Rhaenys would not take well of avoiding eye contact just because of a bruise.

When she finished, Rhaenys's brown eye was shining with interest. It was something that Mya knew would not go away until the princess gets what she desired. Rhaenys was not at fault; she is a princess. "You think he feels the same way?" Rhaenys asked her. "He doesn't do as much for me as much as I do for him."

Mya wanted to sigh. Even when Rhaenys was older than Aegon, even when Rhaenys was Jon's elder by a few years, Mya sometimes wanted to shake her for being so difficult.

"The little things matter too, Rhae." Mya twisted until she was on her side facing the princess. "You have done…your share of things. Jon did too. If what you said was true, then he stood by your side…inside that cat." When Mya first heard it, she scoffed at it. "He even came to you to see the damage to your eye, despite the row. And he asked for your favor. That definitely tells me he cares for you."

Mya narrowed her eyes at the princess. "This wouldn't come to be if you didn't do what you did. This would have been simple. You could've had Jon without any complications." Mya heard the whole story from Rhaenys's standpoint. She didn't listen to Jon's, but she had enough.

"He insulted my cousins," Rhaenys said sharply. "Tyene told me personally what happened. Jon and his brother banded together to shame them, just because the Northerners lost the spar. I went to Jon's tent that night, and I wanted his apology."

"Do you believe that? Do you believe that your cousins told you the truth?" Mya didn't like the Sand Snakes or Arianne Martell. Dorne was known for their indifference towards bastards, but that was not the same case for her. It was because she was the daughter of Robert Baratheon, the usurper. Mya was going to be instantly suspicious of what the bastard daughters of the Red Viper would say. She would rather take Jon's side, her friend.

Rhaenys twisted to her side and faced her, pulling the blanket over her and Balerion. At this moment, the princess looked like the five-year-old child that used to pretend that her kitten was the dragon Balerion.

"Why can't I?" Rhaenys questioned. "They are family. All I wanted was for Jon to apologize to them. That can't be hard for someone like him."

"You wanted him to apologize yet you resorted to hurting him," Mya accused. "I still cannot believe you did that, Rhaenys."

There was a fire in Rhaenys's eyes, but Mya held firm. She once told Jon that the princess was a good person. Jon was not the only one who felt betrayed.

Rhaenys sighed and the fire was gone. The princess of Westeros looked defeated. "I…I…I didn't mean to hurt him. I was just angry...I didn't mean to hurt him…I let my head get the better of me."

Mya nodded in approval.  _She admitted she was wrong. That's the first step._  "Did any of you apologize?" She inquired.

Rhaenys slowly shook her head.

"You have a weird way of showing somebody that you love them."

Rhaenys sputtered. "I…don-"

"Yes, you love him," Mya reaffirmed. "I have never heard you rant as much about a boy as you do for Snow. Frustrated or happy, you always have something to say about him. Tell me that I'm wrong." There was a challenge in her voice, but she didn't care. Rhaenys was confused, and Mya was trying to help her understand.

Rhaenys met her stare, scowled, frowned, and then nodded in resignation. "Yes…I love him."

"Are you going to listen to what I have to say?"

"I'm listening, Mya."

"Tell him how you feel and ask him if he feels the same. Don't be subtle in your approach, be very honest. He has Stark blood running through his veins. He will appreciate your bluntness. I know this because I speak to him regularly. And by the seven…speak about that night in that tent."

Rhaenys had been nodding through her advice; her dark eyebrows knit in seriousness. But in the last section of her sentence, Rhaenys pursed her full lips together. "Why should we speak about that?"

"Because you two need to come to terms on that. This is why you and Jon started a row…" Mya paused, hesitating on her next words. "Rhae, I don't think your cousins were being entirely truthful to you."

Rhaenys did not stray her eyes from hers. "Go on."

Mya was pleasantly surprised by her willingness. "You say that Arianne is interested in Snow."

"I did, and I'm going to keep that snake away from him."  _You made that quite clear already…_

Mya felt her upper lip push upwards. "And when did you become informed of what happened in that spar?"

"Tyene told me before the feast."

"And don't you think she may be lying to you?"

"Why would she do that? We are family." Her rich accent was heavy with confusion and denial.

"Arianne is also in the family. And she is so happening to be vying for the boy you want…" Mya left it at that. She didn't need to explain herself any further. Rhaenys can do the rest on her own.

"In that time span, she had enough time to tell Arianne what happened…" Rhaenys started unemotionally. Mya nodded. "And mayhap Arianne told the three of them to lie to me…"

Mya nodded one final time. "Yes, she wanted to divide you and Snow. She did a remarkable job if I say so myself," She admitted. "Who knows what happened during the row…"

"Nothing happened and nothing will happen," Rhaenys told her determinedly. "I had enough of this. Jon and I are going to talk about this…  **today**. This…this is my fault…"

"No, it's their fault, Arianne and them."

"I hurt Jon because of a lie," Rhaenys breathed out. "I said he was a bastard because of a lie. I defended my cousins…for a lie…I suffered for a lie." There was a sliver of hurt in her brown eye. "Why did they do this to me? Can't they see how I want Jon to be mine? I don't have many wants… am I a bad cousin for them to do this?"

Mya never hated the Sand Snakes and Arianne more than this moment. She grasped Rhaenys's hand under the blanket. "You are not a bad cousin. A bad cousin would've sat back and let strangers slight them. If I had to say, they are bad cousins. They don't deserve you."

Rhaenys's smile resembled the bright sun. Mya could not blame Jon if he has any feelings for her. "I had the thought that they could've been my sisters that I never had…I just realized that sister is in bed with me now…"

Mya smiled back, warmth filling her heart. She was happy that Rhaenys said that to her, not to her cousins from Dorne. "I will be happy to be your sister."  _'Tis ironic that I want to be a sister to the daughter of the man that slain my father…The world is a queer place._

"Why are we still in bed?" Mya asked her. "I would've thought you would be dragging me to the melee."

"Why rush to the stands? I'm sure Jon is going to be victorious."

"Are you confident that he will best the likes of Arthur Dayne and the mountain?" There were more than enough names for Mya to say for an hour.

"Why do you think I gave him my favor? I strive for the best." She giggled when Mya rolled her eyes.

Mya jerked and Rhaenys stayed perfectly still when a harsh fist knocked on the door.  _People are running._ Mya realized with a start, hearing the scurrying of feet.

"Rhae!" That was Aegon's shout. Then the door opened, and Aegon came through. "Rha-" The prince stared at the opened door and turned his eyes to Rhaenys. "Why didn't you bar your door?" Jaime Lannister was seen by the doorframe, looking at the running of feet.

"Why did you barge into my room, little brother?" Rhaenys demanded callously, not bothering to take her head off her pillow. "I could've been changing."  _With me here?_

Aegon shrugged. "It would've been your fault. I knocked."

Mya then took in his state of dress. Aegon was in a black tunic, not wearing any armor.  _Shouldn't he be in the field?_

"Aren't you participating in the melee?" Rhaenys asked the question that was on her mind. "If you haven't noticed, it's about to begin."

"The melee is being delayed," Aegon bluntly told him. The next second Aegon looked ready to bolt out of the room. "Rhaenys, father arrested Jon!" The crown prince exclaimed.  _He did what?_

"He did what?!" Rhaenys growled out, though she was already throwing the blankets off her. "Is father mad?"

"Gerris told me Jon was arrested in the middle of the corridor." Aegon sounded like he couldn't believe his own words. "Father's men put him in chains and are bringing him to the great hall."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!"

"Rhae-" Aegon tried to explain, but Rhaenys pushed past him. The princess grabbed Mya by the arm and compulsorily pulled her along. Aegon and Jaime followed closely.

The corridors were chaotic as people shoved each other to get to the great hall. People clumsily fell and people cursed profusely.

"Make way for the prince and the princess!" Jaime ordered loudly.

At once, the mob parted right down the middle in a straight line. Aegon and Rhaenys held their heads high as they walked through, Jaime following obediently.

"Princess, I can walk too, you know?" Mya said to the princess who was still holding her hand.

Rhaenys blinked at her as if she just now came to the same conclusion. "My apologies, Mya." She released her hold.

The doors to the great hall were opened when they came upon it. It was full of bodies and loud whispers if you can call it that. Seven iron braziers were close by. The king, the queen, the queen dogger, Jon Connington and Ashara sat at the high table. While Loras, Arthur, and Gerold stood on the left side of the table, Oswell and Barriston stood on the right. Jaime excused himself to stand with his brothers. Dany, Viserys, Tommen, Joffrey, Cersei, Arianne, the Sand Snakes, Oberyn, Trystane, Quentyn, Willas, Garlan, Margaery, sat at the table next to the king, not too far and not too close.

There was a long table in the middle. Jon Snow at in it, wearing the finest crafted armor Mya had ever laid eyes on. He looked out of this world. The 17-year-old was drumming his fingers against each other, hands tied but still looking utterly calm. Mya couldn't see if his face was calm because of his silver helm.  _He ought to be calm. He has a beast on his side. Why are we doing this anyway?_

The north had its own seating section that none dared to step foot in. Most of them were on their feet, hands on their hilts, faces either shocked or outraged. The Starks were at the front of the group, eyes cold.  _This is how you start another rebellion._

Mya glanced towards the Stormlands and then to the Vale, wondering if they felt the same anger as the northern lords. Lord Tyrion had his own table, his rude companions sitting by him. It was not a shocker to see Gerris and Daemon sitting next to the dwarf lord also.  _Are they the most angered of all?_

She walked behind Rhaenys and Aegon as they started for their seats. They've past Jon Snow but the man did not glance to them.

"Father, what is the meaning of this?" Aegon boldly demanded of the king when they were in range.

"The bastard is going to be rightfully punished, that's what," Joffrey said scornfully.

"Punished for what exactly?" Rhaenys asked hotly.

"Abducting Gerold Dayne, my kin," Ashara answered her. She gazed down at Jon Snow. "My house's honor beseeches justice."

"He might have not done this," Aegon told her. He looked to his father and mother. "Father, mother, please stop this. This is madness. This man do-"

"What must be done has to be done, Aegon," Rhaegar said to him. "Yes, Jon Snow has done unimaginable deeds to our house, but laws need to be followed through. He will be given a fair trial. We will hear what he has to say."

"I say he is guilty," Cersei said. "Bastards are capable of doing despicable things." Her words had more than one interpretation.

Oberyn, who had his legs propped up on the table, sat up and looked to where the Lannister sat. "Lannister, if you have something to say, say it more clearly," Oberyn beckoned casually, though his eyes held a dangerous promise. His bastard daughters stared at Cersei with anger.

"Imbecile, my mother does not talk of your Sand bastards…" Joffrey paused. "Or Sand bitches…" Joffrey smacked his lips together as if tasting good wine, and a big smile spread across his face. "That sounds better. I have to give credit to the northern bastard; those pitiful things that you call women are very deserving of that title."

"No more!" Elia ordered when the Sand Snakes were nearly opening their mouth to retort. Her eyes took in Aegon and Rhaenys. "We are having this trial."

"Oh, and our two dragon eggs is very capable to battle Cannibal if Snow wished to burn us all," Rhaenys said, sarcasm lacing her voice.

"Oh, Rhaenys, don't forget the eggs can magically float in the air," Aegon put in, picking up his sister's act with ease. "Those eggs would be fearsome in the air. Snow's dragon would not dare to engage in a battle with them."

Rhaenys turned to him, her finger on her chin in a mockery show of thoughtfulness. "Oh, yes. But if Cannibal was foolish enough to attack them, the eggs would glow and Cannibal would be blinded by its brilliant scales."

Aegon, too, put his finger on his chin. He nodded his head during Rhaenys's talk as if he was serious. "Yes, I agree. I can imagine it now." Aegon whipped his body around and put his hands out as if he was watching a play. "A glorious battle, a song would be made for it. What should the name be for it, dear sister? The dance of dragons and eggs?"

"Or the unrivaled brilliance of king Rhaegar…," Rhaenys added idly to the sniggers of Oberyn and Viserys. "Or the folly of Jon Snow."

"Aegon, Rhaenys, take a seat," Rhaegar ordered them softly.

"My, my, my," Oberyn said amusingly as Rhaenys and Aegon took a seat next to Viserys, glaring stubbornly at their parents. Mya stood behind Rhaenys's chair. "Elia, your children have creative and wild imaginations. I'm certain they do not get it from you…"

"It runs in the blood certainly," Viserys remarked, glancing at Rhaegar. "Not every child inherits the most from their mothers. 'Tis an awful thing…"

That was a slight, though the king chose not to comment on it.

The great hall was buzzing with talks. Mya watched people frantically point towards Jon and to the northern section. She watched people try to call out Jon Snow from where they're at. And she watched the northerners glower at any southerner that tries to speak to him. But Jon did not speak or react once. He'd just sit there, moving his tied hands as if he enjoying some time at the lake instead of being on trial.

Connington stood, walked in front of the high table, and shouted, "Silence in the hall in the name of your king!"

The hall went into silent good enough, aside from the few persistent murmurs. But then someone shouted, "Piss on the king! And piss on the Targaryens!" The noise level erupted again from anger and agreement.

Before Mya can identify who said it, another person shouted, "Is this how you repay Jon Blackscale for saving Kingslanding, for saving your worthless lives, for giving you Blackfrye, and giving you fucking dragon eggs?" The person's voice became high pitched at the end of anger and incredulity. A hundred fists might have thumped on the tables for his remark.

"Listen to this man, nothing but the truth!"

"Shut up! Jon Snow is guilty! The king said it!"

"The trial didn't even start yet, you arse!"

"Fuckers! Aren't we forgetting something? Robbert Baratheon should've won the battle of the Trident! The Stags would've been better rulers than the fucking dragons we have now. The dirty wolves from the frozen north would've been better rulers!"

The Starks and the Baratheons did not agree with it, nor did they dispute it. Robb Stark and Renly Baratheon stared coldly at the Targaryens and Martells alike.  _What's going through their minds now?_

"Rhaegar is our king!"

"The realm has prospered under Rhaegar's rule!"

"Piss on Jon Snow! Rhaegar! Rhaegar! Rhaegar!"

"Jon Snow is a tyrant! I've been saying this for days! He's a monster just like his dragon! I hated this man even when he was across the Narrow Sea! Didn't we hear of what he did in Essos?"

"Just look at him! He looks guilty!"  _No, he looks completely relaxed…_

 _The room is divided._  Mya noted as she continued to listen to the outbursts that prevailed in the hall.  _The realm loves Rhaegar, but the realm fears Jon…people don't know what to do._ And there was something else to add. There were disturbing rumors of what Jon did back in Essos, and people hated and feared him for it. The hate and fear were obvious when Jon first arrived at Harrenhall, but with time, it was slowly forgotten. But now, when the heavily praised king drags Jon to trial, what was forgotten was now something the people remembered on the back of their hands. However, for the people who are more cautious and more thoughtful, they are more aware of what pissing of Jon Snow means. The threat of a vengeful black beast hung over everybody's, so emotions ran hot.

"What is this? I'd have the lot of them whipped bare in the streets of Flee bottom…" Rhaenys's voice was so low that Mya thought she growled. Her threat sounded so real that Mya almost believed her.

"Now, now, you know you cannot do that, Rhaenys," Aegon tried to pacify his sister's anger. "Calm…down."

"I can't, little brother? Watch me. I ought to ride Jon's dragon and burn this damned castle to the ground, with all these people in it. How can they talk this way about Jon? My Jon…"

"You shan't do anything," Aegon applied more stern to his voice and to his handsome face. "Calm…down." Apparently, the prince did not hear of the last part regarding Snow. That was for the best. Mya did not know what Aegon would think about Rhaenys's feelings for Jon Snow.

Mya knew Rhaenys was not able of doing any of what she said. In her bouts of anger, the princess can get carried away of what she meant. But it gave her relief when Rhaenys took a deep breath and nodded. The princess settled to staring at Jon and his insulters intently.

_Your feelings for Jon have blinded you so far. Don't let the tendency continue. I can even say you are infatuated with him._

The king watched the people argue silently, not appearing angry or confused. He observed as if he was about to make a move in a game. Mya thought he observed Jon Snow the longest. The queen had only Jon in her sight. There was sadness in her eyes. Mya did not know what he did to make her feel this way.

A flash of red from the corner of her eye caused her to look that way. A woman, red-haired and wearing red robes, stood by an iron Brazier. She was surrounded by other women that donned the same robe. Mya skin crawled, not from her appearance, but from the way she stared at Jon. It was…unsettling. It was different from how Rhaenys stares at him. The princess's eyes would be full of passion. This woman…was eerie…almost voracious.

The red woman must have felt her stare, for she looked straight at her. Mya felt her hair on her arms stand on end. And she felt that the woman was standing right next to her. The red woman tilted her head and smiled as if she was a mere girl. Mya swore that the red ruby necklace that was around her neck glowed for a brief moment. The woman turned away, and Mya just comprehended that she had been holding her breath. She exhaled.

"Is something bothering you, Mya?" Rhaenys asked quietly, staring at Jon longingly, obviously hearing her.

"No, princess," Mya responded, though she eyed the red woman.  _I have to keep an eye on her._

"Enough." That word was enough to end all the blabbering in the hall abruptly. Children would wonder who had the power beside the king to do this. But the adults didn't, because everyone knew Jon Snow.

All eyes drifted to him expectedly, and all was silent. Jon twisted in his seat and turned his head slowly, his silver helm looking at everyone. "I don't want to be here," He declared, at last, very calm. "I want this to be over with so I can go and win the melee." He turned his body back around.

Everybody was shocked. Mya knew this because she was as well. Silence prevailed in the hall.

"That's what he has to say?" Aegon asked to no one in particular, his voice distorted with disbelief. "He talks of the melee while he is on trial?" he let out a small laugh.

"Of course he is. He is not guilty," Rhaenys said with a bite, not hiding her glances to her parents.

"He must be very brave or very stupid," Oberyn remarked.

"Come now, uncle, it must be the first," Arianne said, smiling brightly at Jon. Mya found it odd that she made a soft sound whenever she shifted in her seat.

To Rhaenys's credit, she didn't spare her cousin a glance.

"You heard Blackscale! Get it over with so he can bite everyone's asses for this shit in the melee!" Gerris yelled out. He howled loudly and raised his goblet in the air.  _He's drunk._

Jon turned to regard Gerris. "You ought to put that drink down, Gerris. You must know wolves don't bite-"

"Shush! Don't you know you are on trial, fool?"

Jon merely turned his back on his friend. Although, Bronn stood up and tried to grab Gerris by the arm. "I think it's your bedtime," He tried to explain as the other man began to struggle. "Damn it, you're making a scene…"

Gerris finally managed to yank his arm away. He scowled at him. "I'm not making a scene. Jon is. He's the one in fucking trouble. I'm going to stay here…to offer my friend support…" He sluggishly pointed to himself and to Jon as he tried to explain himself in his drunken condition. "Then…when Jon is found innocent…we will go to the melee together and cause havoc." He started to point towards the men at his table. "It's going to be me, Daemon, Jon, Bronn, burnt face, but not you dwarf." He chuckled as if he made a good jest.

"Get this drunken dimwit out of the hall!" Someone shouted. Some people nodded their heads and murmured in agreement.

Gerris stood up immediately, swaying somewhat. "I'm not a dimwit, fucker!" He paused to hold his stomach. "Whoever you are, try to move me yourself. You will find out who Gerris Drinkwater really is…"

"My lord, if you cannot hold your tongue then please leave," Connington told the drunken man sternly. "Or we will  **move**  you."

Gerris stared at the hand blankly. He then waved his hand and laughed. "Of course, of course, I understand!" He sat down, crossed his arms, and pointed a stern finger towards Jon. "And don't leave, Blackscale. I'll be back. We have to go to the melee, and I don't you to leave me behind."  _What is going on here?_

"Yes, Gerris," Jon said patiently.  _These are some bright men you are around with, Jon._

When he got his answer, Gerris instantly closed his eyes and slumped over the table. His goblet dropped out of his hands and landed with a metallic thud, its contents spilling onto the floor.

"Gerris…" Aegon sighed and put his hand to his head. "Why does he constantly insist on being a fool when everything has to be serious?"

At that, no one had an answer.

"I'm sorry, your grace," Tyrion apologized, leaning over the table to throw a cloak over Gerris's head. "I'm afraid that this foolish idiot was too deep in his cups. May he rest in his not so peaceful drunken slumber."

"As his comrade, you ought to be more responsible," Rhaegar scolded lightly. "Make certain that the rest of your comrades," he glanced at the rest of the men, "don't interfere with the trial, Lord Tyrion."

"I will your grace." Tyrion stood up on his table and pointed to every single man he considers being his comrade. "Don't interfere with the trial, or you will face the dire consequences." He sat back down and exhaled. "That should do it, my king."

Rhaegar looked to his Lord hand and nodded. "Let the trial commence."

"All be silent!" Connington roared. He fixed the hall a stern gaze until not a whisper was heard. The hand nodded in acceptance and looked to the king.

Rhaegar's gaze was impenetrable on Jon Snow. "Jon Snow, you stand accused by Ashara Dayne of illegally abducting Gerold Dayne, her kin," He declared in his kingly voice, yet it was soft. "How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, your grace," Jon answered, unknowingly resurrecting murmurs. "I'm innocent." He said that whilst looking at Ashara.

"May the first witness comes forth," Rhaegar called out.

A round man, more fat than muscle, stood up from his table and cautiously walked in front of the high table.

"Sam?" Jon asked.

The fat man did not look at him but at the king. His hands were nervously playing at his sides. Beads of sweat littered his forehead. Mya thought he would crumble under the stares.

"Your name?" The king asked calmly.

It appeared that the king's calmness cooled the man's anxiety, for he straightened his back. "Sa-i-Samwell of house Tarly, your grace."

"And what do you have to say?"

"Jon Snow is guilty, your grace." Shouts rang out.

"Sam…why?" Jon asked him.

Samwell turned his head to him and gulped. But then he visibly grew determined. "This is the right thing to do. I'm not going to forced to stay silent in the shadows by the likes of you. You think you can oppress and kidnap people because you have a dragon. You're nothing but a bully."  _Jon's a bully?_

Mya wanted to slap some good sense into Sam. Jon has been nothing but kind to her.

"You call my brother a bully?!" Arya Stark shouted. "I'll get needle!"

"I'll get Shaggydog!" Rickon Stark shouted.

"Quiet!" Connington ordered.

"Who's needle? Who's Shaggydog?" Aegon asked to no avail.

"I'm a bully you say?" Jon said to Samwell. "I'm a bastard, have been and always will. Don't you think I have been bullied and oppressed? Why would I become what I hate? I'm-"

"Mayhap you hate yourself?" Oberyn asked mockingly, earning the sniggers from the Dornishmen.

"-not the Sand Bitches," Jon finished. The lot of the hall laughed

Joffrey guffawed. "Good one, bastard!"

"Thank you."

Oberyn's face darkened in rage, but it was Obara who shouted, "A dog like your-"

"Stop hissing, Sand Bitch!" Joffrey sent the Sand Snakes a look of utter contempt before looking at his nails as if bored. "Let the northern scum speak. This is getting interesting."

"The one who I call upon has the right to speak, no one else," Rhaegar informed everybody. "Jon Snow, please remain silent. Samwell Tarly, do you more to testify your claim?"

"Yes, I do." Samwell acquired some broken shards out from his sleeve. "These were found near Gerold Dayne's body."

Mya held in her gasp, for she knew what those were. By the shock on Aegon's face, he knew too. He should.

"Do you know what these are?" Rhaegar directed the question to Jon, who was staring at the broken shards of dragon eggs.

"They're dragon eggs," Jon admitted.

"Why would dragon eggs be near him? And why would someone destroy them? Dragon eggs can be sold for a very hefty price." It was clear to everyone that Sam was asking the entire audience. Not a single person was capable of answering, neither was Jon Snow.

Mya's mind was turning at a fast rate.

"How well do you know your dragon, Snow?" Rhaegar asked.

"Very well, he's my dragon."

"Would you say that he is capable of eating the eggs that he hatched? Can you deny those eggs are his? What other dragon is there in this world?"

"There are no other dragons, only Cannibal," Jon conceded. "And yes, I can say he is capable of eating those eggs."

"Why was your dragon there, Jon Snow?"

"Your grace, if I may?" Ashara put in.

Rhaegar glanced at her. "You may, you are the one bringing the charges."

"Thank you, my king." Ashara stood up and swept her eyes around the hall twice before looking to Jon. "I say that your dragon was there because you were there. 'Tis not a coincidence that my kin and your dragon were in the same place. Can your dragon tie people to the tree Snow?"

"No."

"Then it was you who did it. You are guilty."

"I can't believe it," Aegon muttered, his voice one of the many that was now in use in the great hall. "He didn't do it."

"The evidence is pointed its finger towards him, Egg," Viserys said solemnly.

"Do you have more to say, Samwell?" Rhaegar asked. He sounded as if he knew there was more. Mya wondered if the king was in conspiring with Sam and Ashara.

"Yes." Sam nodded and pointed a stubby finger to Jon, who appeared to be frozen. "I saw him abduct Gerold Dayne with my own eye. He made me comply to never tell anyone."

Nothing could stop the shouts from coming. However, it sounded distant to Mya's ears.

Dread hit her stomach with the force of an anvil.  _Oh god's, Jon. Did you really do it?_

"Jon Snow." The king's soft voice brought the shouts to a halt. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I do have something to say." Mya was honestly surprised by how quick he responded. "Watching him bawl his eyes on that damned tree was a great stress reliever. Did you know, Ashara Dayne that he pissed himself?"

_He's definitely guilty…_

"You have it! He's guilty!"

"Piggy is right! He's a bully!"

"Get him to the chopping block!"

"Who gives a fuck about Darkstar anyway?"

"Jon, what are you doing?" Rhaenys whispered. She looked as though she was in despair. "You are supposed to keep denying their claims…"

"Silence in the hall!" This time, it was Rhaegar who roared. The hall immediately plunged into the cold, dreary silence.

"I thought you said you were innocent," Rhaegar told Jon softly. "Are you now confessing of your guilt?"

"No, I'm not. I'm saying I'm innocent because it was my right to leave him tied to that tree so the bear can have its way with him," Jon answered bluntly.

"Why would you say that?" Rhaegar asked.

"He tried to kill me," Jon twisted his body to point out Robb Stark and Tyrion Lannister, "Robb Stark, and your master of coin Tyrion Lannister."

"He attempted to kill you three?" Rhaegar repeated. "Tell me how and what for."

"He hated me for beating him in a spar. Gerold Dayne sent assassins after me, which left me severely injured and the forest severely burnt."

Rhaegar eyed Jon Snow in a thoughtful manner. If she so dared it, Mya thought she saw a glimmer of hope in the king's violet eyes.

"Robb Stark and my master of coin, can the two of you back up this claim?" Rhaegar inquired.

"I can your grace." Robb stood to his feet. He nodded in Tyrion's direction. "Lord Tyrion and I were there that night. There were six men in total that wanted to kill my brother. And one of them, perhaps the leader, told us that a friend wanted my brother dead."

"He was a very optimistic man," Tyrion said idly, pouring some wine into Gerris's goblet that he picked up from the floor. "He was very…demanding. 'Make the dwarf shorter by cutting off his head', he said…"

It was too early, but Mya let optimism fill her stomach.  _There are two lords who are saying the same thing. Jon might be in the right._

The king still looked pensive. "And did the man tell who the person was?"

Mya's optimism died when Robb and Tyrion glanced at each other, looking very at lost to what to say.

"No, he didn't give us a name, your grace," Tyrion answered.

"Then how do you know it was Gerold Dayne?"

Robb and Tyrion slowly turned their heads to Jon. Mya felt more dreadful and less hopeful at this point.

"He told me," Jon answered.  _No…_

There was nothing to be said afterward. The silence was so loud that a snigger echoed off the walls.

"He told you?" Rhaegar asked slowly.

It must have dawned on Jon about how ridiculous it was, for he explained more, "Yes, I forced the truth out of him." It was still not plausible. The king and the queen frowned heavily.

"Snow, did you kidnap the wrong fucker?!" The hound shouted.

"No," Jon replied, annoyance lacing his voice. It would've been comical if this wasn't so serious. "Gerold Dayne is the one…I know it to be true."

Whatever hope that was in Rhaegar's was nowhere to be found. There was only a king resolve. "There is no evidence that you can give to persuade me to consider Gerold Dayne attempted to murder you." He stood up to his full height, looking like the very image of a king with his crown on his brow. "Jon Snow, I hereby declare you guilty of kidnapping Gerold Dayne that ultimately led to his death," he announced.

"He's guilty! Take his head already!" Joffrey shouted in glee.

"Father, I had enough!" Aegon rose to his feet and glared at his father. "I will not sit back and watch you make another disastrous decision that would doom our house. I will not allow it! I will not!"

"Sit down, Aegon," Rhaegar told him.

"Jon Blackscale is a good man. I say he is better than the lot of us because I would've been flown away on that dragon if I was him."

"The heir speaks true!"

"All hail the crown prince!"

"A good man does not leave a man to be torn apart by a bear," Rhaegar responded softly, coughing at the end. "Sit down, Aegon."

"I hate you, father…" Aegon muttered as he sat down dejectedly, clenching his hands. "I hate you…I swear that I do…"  _Does he mean it?_

Mya was slightly apprehensive by the strong conviction in the young man's voice. She knew the prince and the king were at odds with each other, but she didn't know it was too this extent.

Rhaenys and Viserys, who were right next to the crown prince, did not comment on it.

"Jon Snow, for your deeds to my house I offer you a choice: the wall or death…" Rhaegar and everyone looked to Jon, who had his helm tilted to the king's direction. He was utterly silent.

The queen, who had said nothing for the entire trial, spoke to Jon urgently, "Choose the wall, Jon. Don't lose your life…"

"He doesn't have to choose anything," Lord Umber growled. "He's one of us. And he has a bloody dragon!"

"Lord Umber is correct." All the people in the hall watched as Jon stood to his feet. The man tilted his head to the side. "I don't have to choose. I respect you, my king. And it was out of that respect that made me sit through this. But now you are talking to me as though you hold my life in your palm. I have a dragon, you don't. I can leave freely if I so wished. Why should I abide by your word?" He asked, voice curious yet serious. Mya can see that everyone was hanging on to his every word.

And there was it. That was the million dragon question. It was the one Mya had been thinking much of when she was heading to this hall.  _Jon holds our lives in his palm, not the king…_

"I thought you would say that," Rhaegar said softly. "You have much of Lyanna in you…" Mya was confused by the sorrow in the king's voice. "And it pains me to do this…" He clapped his hands once.

At once, Oswell and Barriston marched to Jon Snow. They grabbed him by the arm and forcibly forced him to face the approach of the red woman and her cohorts. What set Mya on edge was the dagger in her hand. Jon struggled in the kingsguard's grasps.

"Fucking Targaryens!" Great Jon bellowed as the Northmen rose to their feet in anger. The Starks were just as livid if not more so.

"Unhand him at once!" Robb shouted in panic and anger, his hand searching for his sword.

Right before he could do so, a man materialized from behind and put a blade underneath his throat.

Mya looked from the heir to see that the other Northmen were in a similar situation. All of them were at sword point, and nobody moved.

 _The king must have men waiting for this moment._ Mya mused.

"Close the doors," Rhaegar demanded. Mya knew why because of the haunting howls that flowed in the air. Two strong men closed it, and not a second after something large smacked against the other side. The vicious snarls and snaps coincided with the budging of the doors. Mya feared the direwolves would topple it.

"Get off me!" Jon banged his helm against Oswell's face. Blood was spilled and the kingsguard screeched. Barriston stilled Jon's movement with a strong cuff to the back off his helm.

"What bloke would use this type of helm?" Oswell asked ferociously, blinking the blood from his eye. "'Tis fucking dangerous."

"You do not need to be afraid, Jon Snow," The red woman soothed. "'Tis only be a scratch.

"Fuck that!" Sandor draws his sword, Daemon, and Bronn following his example. "I'm going to run my sword through you, woman!"

"Lord Tyrion, command them to stand down," Rhaegar ordered.

"No, I'm not going to stand down! I'm going to fight!" Sandor roared.

Rhaegar looked to his Kingsguard, and they moved in perfect unification to stepping before the challengers and drawing their swords.

"This is going to be a mess," Aegon said. Mya had to agree.

While Daemon and Bronn hesitated in the face of the kingsguard, Sandor laughed at it and swung at Loras. The younger man did not expect such a vicious blow and therefore only managed a hasty defense. Loras stumbled to the floor from the force. Sandor grabbed him by the cloak and threw him across a table, plates, and goblets clattering to the floor. Bronn used his exclusiveness into dodging and parrying Jaime's strikes, knocking several people to the floor. The Lannister had a cool head on his shoulders as he pressed the Sellsword backward, careful to not slice any bystanders.

Mya frowned when she saw Daemon measuring Arthur. The dornishman grunted and charged at him with an overhead strike. Arthur easily met it with the flat of his blade. His greatsword sliced in an arc in the air. Daemon hastily backed away, but the tip of Arthur's valyrion sword caught his upper arm. It was only a light kiss, but blood was instantly pouring out. Daemon's scream was quenched by a hit on the back by Gerold Hightower's pommel.

 _They are foolish. They are fighting the kingsguard._ Mya mentally scolded Jon's friends. Tyrion had a look of confliction on his face but did not join the battle. Gerris was still dead to the world. Jon Arryn and Renly Baratheon wanted to join but did not, knowing they were outnumbered. Their heirs were shifting on their feet, their hands toying with their sheathed swords, or in Edric's case, hammer.

"Stop this fighting, my friends!" Aegon pleaded, standing on his feet. None of them glanced at the prince. Aegon swerved his head to Jon. "Tell them to cease their fighting!" He repeated it louder when they saw Jamie kick Bronn in the chest. To the man's credit, Bronn splashed wine in the Lannister's eye. Jaime cried out and held his eyes, and Bronn slashed at his face. The man shouted in glee when blood seeped from Jaime's cheek.

"I did it! I'm the one who bled Jaime Lannister!" He shouted, sounding enormously proud amongst the battle.

"You sound very proud for a man that's about to die," Jaime growled back. Mya knew that the lion was not jesting. Bronn narrowed his eyes and gripped his sword two-handed, his body looking ready to launch in any direction. "Your dirty tricks won't save you, Sellsword."

"Bronn, put down your sword!" Jon turned to Sandor, who had Loras on guard with his savage but fast strikes. "You too, Sandor, stop that!" He turned to Daemon. "Stop fighting!" He said, despite Daemon being on his back looking up at Arthur and Gerold.

Bronn immediately put down his sword, looking utterly comforted. He sent a sly grin to Jaime who was scowling darkly at him.

Sandor was knocking Loras's sword from his hands when he stopped. "You sure about this, Snow?" His grin was disturbing to witness as he looked at Loras. "I was about to kill this fucker."

"Yes, and then you will be killed afterward," Jon deadpanned. He looked utterly calm in Oswell's and Barriston's hold. "Cannibal is coming." Mya couldn't tell if this was a bluff or a real threat.

But it worked either way, for people started to shout in fear.

"Do not be scared!" The red woman shouted. To Mya surprise, everyone stopped to listen to her. There was…power in the woman's voice. "For R'hllor, the lord of light is with us!"

"What is she doing here?" Rhaenys and Aegon asked as one.

"You're a Red Priestess," Jon said warily. "I saw one of your kind shouting nonsense in the night. What are you going to do? Are you going to burn me alive?"

The woman laughed. "No, I'm not going to burn you, sweet child. I only want your blood," She whispered.

Before Jon can reply, the woman grabbed Jon by the helm, lowered it, and sliced him across the neck. The Northmen shouted when Jon cried out in pain. The woman looked at her dagger and smiled.

"Keep hold of him," The woman told Oswell and Barriston, walking to the nearest iron brazier. "He will struggle when the time comes."  _What does she mean?_

The two kingsguard nodded, eyeing her with obvious distrust and disdain.

"Who is this woman, Rhaegar?" Rhaella asked her son.

"Her name is Melisandre, a red priestess from the city of Asshai." Rhaegar tracked Melisandre with his eyes. "I sent for her."

"Tell me why, Rhaegar. What is she going to do with Snow's dragon?" Rhaella pleaded. "Our house might become extinct at any moment."

"You will see, mother," was the king's cryptic reply.

Melisandre watched the blood drip from the blade and into the iron brazier. Men and women jumped and exclaimed as sparks began to fly from the fire.

"Your blood is powerful, more so than what I have foreseen." Melisandre smiled at Jon. "Do you have something to hide?"

"No," Jon answered calmly.

Melisandre peered at him. "'Tis no matter then." She looked up at the king. "May I start your grace?"

The king nodded solemnly. "You may."

"Start what?!" Aegon asked in frustration. "Father, you are mad!"

Mya's skin crawled when Melisandre's necklace brightened. Her comrades started to slowly clap and chant. Mya couldn't make sense of what they said. It was ominous. Mya was certain this was not good.

The hall warmed considerably. Mya felt the sweat drip from her forehead, and she watched in fascination as the fires in the iron braziers reach new heights.  _This is not normal…_

Mya snapped her head to Jon, for he was muttering weakly. He did not have the same strong posture. He looked drained. He was practically sagging in the kingsguard's hold.

"What is this woman doing?" Arianne demanded. "My king, they're using sorcery."

"I know this," Rhaegar replied calmly.

Rhaenys stood to her feet and shouted at her father, "You are hurting him! Make them stop!"

"What the lady said! Stop hurting my brother!" Arya put in, fresh tears in her grey eyes.

Rhaegar only shook his head. "This has to be done, my daughter," He said to Rhaenys.

"What you are doing is wrong, Rhaegar," Viserys snarled. Mya knew him to have respect for Jon Snow. His reaction was expected.

"You are not king, brother," Rhaegar retorted. "You don't understand what needs to be done. The king must deliver justice. I will not shy away from my duty."

"I'm not going to allow you to harm him anymore." Rhaenys ran down from the table. She was heading to where Jon was.

"Arthur!" Rhaegar called out.

"Yes, my king." Arthur raced forward and grabbed the princess by the waist. Rhaenys growled in rage and clawed at his eye. Arthur grimaced but then grabbed her by the hand and manhandles her on his broad shoulder. Mya watched as Rhaenys pounded her fists on Arthur's back as he walked back to the princess's seat.

Mya's attention went back to the red woman. What came out her mouth was inhuman and dark. Her necklace glowed to a harsh red that blinded everyone in the room. Mya brought her hand to her face to shield the light from her eyes. The loud chants coincided with Jon's screams.

Then everything fell silent. And the necklace glowed no more.

Mya and everyone else looked to the middle of the hall. Everything was the same…except for Jon Snow. He was on the floor, holding his helm and groaning. Oswell and Barriston stepped away warily.

"Is it done?" Rhaegar asked Melisandre, but his sad eyes were on Jon.

"Yes, my king." Melisandre curtsied deeply. "I did what you asked."

"What did the woman do?!"

"Have her head! This woman is a demon!"

"No more sorcery! No more sorcery!"

"She's going to burn us!"

"Is…is he in pain?" The queen asked hesitantly.

"He's not," Melisandre said instantly. "His body is just not used to the sense of the absence."  _What is she talking about?_

"What did you do?" Jon asked gutturally. All eyes turned to him as he laid a hand on the table to pull himself up. His legs were shaking. "What the fuck did you just do!?" He shouted at the red woman.

Mya was confused and so was everybody else. There was nothing out of place. It seemed that the woman just somehow drained him, nothing else. But she was feeling scared by the sheer panic in Jon's voice.

"Why I just so happened to sever your connection to Cannibal," Melisandre said indifferently. "Your dragon has not a clue to what happened."

All air was punched out of Mya's chest.  _Is she actually saying…?_

"That's impossible!" Robb Stark shouted so angrily his faced burned red. "He's a warg! He's a powerful one too. You…you just can't do this, woman!"

_He's a warg?_

"I can and I did," Melisandre said easily. "Wargs hold no power to the might of R'hllor."

"You stole my dragon…" Jon accused weakly, leaning against the table. "Give him back…"

"Oh, I didn't steal him," Melisandre responded. "And I shan't restore your connection to Cannibal unless my king demands it."

 _This…this is a turn of events._ Mya thought as she looked at all of the wide-eyed stares in the hall. They underestimated the king, they all did. The king's planning reeked of cunningness and ambition. Songs will be sung of how the king outsmarted the dragon rider of the north.  _Can the king seize the dragon for himself if the red woman is willing?_

"This isn't happening," Aegon whispered with his purple eyes wide.

"This is happening, nephew," Viserys whispered back, having the same wide-eyed stare. Tommen looked scared for Jon. "I've underestimated Rhaegar…"  _We all did…_

"As a boy," The king began, "I've read tombs on how Shadowbinders have unnatural abilities. I had doubts this would work, but I'm now persuaded that my thinking was sound." He gazed down at the weakened Jon. "Not every dragon rider is invincible. Jon Snow, I bid you to choose the wall or be beheaded. I will not ask again."  _He didn't trust Jon from the start...this was a plan that was thought ahead of time._

"Fuck! I hate the Targaryens!" Great Jon roared. His band of northerners shouted in agreement. Robb wanted to say something. But Mya knew they could do nothing. They were all outnumbered.

"Don't listen to them, Jon! Walk out! Walk out!" Rhaenys shouted from Arthur's shoulder. Mya felt sorry for her.

"Jon Snow, speak," Rhaegar said softly. He coughed.

"Jon!" Tyrion shouted, finally standing up. "Tel-"

"I…I…demand a trial by combat…"

The great hall exploded in frenzy. They were shouts, and Mya was one of them. She didn't know if her shout was from happiness or from fear.


	22. Chapter 22

**Ned**

Stannis Baratheon hasn't changed at all, he noted as the wall came closer insight. The twisting path of the Kingsroad fell behind them.

The retinue behind him slowed to a stop as soon as Ned did. On the left to him, Mors snorted. "He ain't look like much."

On the other side of him, Jeor Morment said, "He has little resemblance with Robert."

 _It's not fair,_ Ned thought.  _I never met anyone that is what Robert was._

Stannis indeed shares little with his older brother. He has his height, yes, but with less charm and supporting a deep frown on his face. Where hair Robert had plenty, Stannis's was thinning. Robert's eyes were always bright, either when flirting with women or in battle, but his younger brother's were dim in comparison. There was little joy in the man.

The entourage was led through the gates when Stannis approached him. "Lord Stark," he greeted with a stiff nod.

"Lord Commander."

"You actually came."

 _He didn't think I would come to the Watch's aid?_ Ned had to wonder. "It's my duty to assist the Night's Watch as the Lord of Winterfell."

Stannis grunted and contented himself with watching the armor-clad men poor through the gates. Banners from many houses, high and small flapped and twisted in the brisk and cold air, just like the black cloaks the black brothers wore as they shuffled around the yard.

The lord commander then scowled. "This is it? This is all the men the lord of Winterfell can bring?" He made an impatient gesture with his gloved hand.

Ned worked his jaw slightly at the subtle mocking tint in his gruff voice. "You expected more?" Numerous northern lords galloped to attend the tourney at Harrenhall, and the Castilians left in their absence he had gathered to bring to the wall. Thousands. The force assembled was nothing to sneeze at.

The large cloak-covered form of Jeor Mormont stepped close. "He came when you asked and he brought men when you asked," he growled. "Show more appreciation,  _Lord_ Stannis."

"As my bear lord commands." Stannis ran his eyes over Lord Mormont, Umber, Glover, Forrester, and Karstark before looking back to Ned. "I thank you."

"Why more men against Wildlings?"

Finally, Stannis appeared uncomfortable. "It's not just them."

Ned was still in a state of confusion when he was settled down in a chair in the Lord Commander's solar.

Stannis held up a flagon. "Wine?"

"Please and thank you."

His cup was filled but Stannis didn't fill his and let it rest on the desk. Stannis stared out the window and ground his teeth. "I don't have an ounce of love for you."

Ned didn't let his surprise show. "I know."

"Robert. My brother.  _Your_ supposedly best friend. He was slain by Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident and you watched him die and did nothing."

_I question myself every night since that day. But I did do something. I took his son right from under his nose._

"But opinions don't matter," Stannis said. "Definitely not now. If things go to the seven hells, perchance it will never matter anymore. Not yours, not your children's, not your petty Lord's, and especially not the silver-haired bastard's opinions that's on the throne."

Ned narrowed his eyes. "What is it that concerns you so if not the wildlings?"

"Ancient foes, prophecies," a thin voice said from the doorway, "bedtime stories that are used to lull lovely children to bed."

Stannis gave a thin smile. "Maester Aemon."

"Lord Stark," Aemon said, taking careful steps into the solar. "Pray tell me what your House's motto is?" An average height man with missing fingers stepped respectfully in the room.

"Winter is coming."

"Yes." Aemon's sightless milk-pale eyes stared at nothing but him. "Winter is coming. It's inevitable. It's coming for all of us. Gods help us if we're not ready."

**Rhaegar**

Sweet music steadily drifted through the dim-lit room.

Eyes closed, he carefully ran his slender fingers down the thin white strings. Eyes closed, he can remember the love he felt once. Eyes closed, he can still picture his lost lover's face.

One last flick, the note echoed throughout the quiet solar.  _Lyanna_ , it seemed to groan. But the harp and he knows she's not coming back.

 _She loved to hear me play._  He can still remember the time he first played for her, right here in this castle, watching as the tears stream down her pale cheeks.

Duties of importance demanded him to open his eyes. He didn't want to.  _Let me remember. Let me remember. Let me…_

Slowly, his eyes creaked open.

The sight of Elia sitting near the table with the candle burning immediately swam into his vision, her orange night shift hugging her frame. She had a soft smile.

"You've been dreaming again," she said. "I can tell. What of?"

He placed his harp down next to his crown on the desk. Lyanna's smiling face rapidly receded from his mind. It was dark outside, he saw as he sat down in his chair. "Something horrible."

"Like what? What's so horrible that can drive you to act so recklessly, Rhaegar?"

"Like death."

Elia's smile melted off her face. Nonetheless, he continued, "I dreamed of ice falling. A wall of Ice. So much ice when the wall is supposed to stand at guard forever. I dreamed of a large shadow with dark fingers covering the whole world as we know it when the sun is supposed to be out. I dreamed of dead men rising and walking when they should've stayed fucking dead. I know their eyes are bluer than the sunset sea even when I never set eyes on the damned thing. I saw spiders big as hounds when they shouldn't have been bigger than my bloody palm. There were screams…then eternal silence in the world…so quiet. So tell me, my sweet queen, if you see what I see day in and day out, would you still ask me if I'm being  _reckless?_ "

They stared at each other in silence. Only a couple minutes later Rhaegar noticed that he was gripping the arm of his chair and his chest was heaving.

Elia pushed way from the table and left.

Rhaegar sighed, slumped in his chair, and rubbed his eyes.

_Why can I feel my crown when I'm not wearing the bloody thing?_

"Sometimes trying to convince your loved ones of the greater good is the most difficult of all."

Rhaegar opened his eyes. "How long have you been there?"

Like a snake, Melisandre slithered from the shadows. "Long enough to know that most people are ignorant of the bigger picture."

"Did you see anything? Did you have a vision in the flames?"

"Not as of yet, my king."

Rhaegar recalled the disgust he seen in the great hall, saw the anger and shock in his children's eyes as the connection between Jon Snow and the dragon was being weakened.

 _Weakened, but not broken,_  Rhaegar knows.  _Weakened enough so Jon Snow can't command the dragon to burn us to the seven hells. Without the brains, the dragon will be clueless. He will look for the next rider._

Doubt seeped into his mind. "Is this beyond doubt good for all?"

"It is. You've been dreaming about this."

_I've been dreaming ever since he came to Westeros on that dragon of his._

"Yes…" Rhaegar stared off to space, his most intense vision coming in to play. "There were three, one woman and two men. One had brown eyes. The other two had Targaryen eyes. My eyes. They swept the darkness away with blood and fire. Those three are our saviors."

"Who?" the red woman prompted, even though she knew already.

"Rhaenys. Aegon. And myself…"  _The two men had my eyes. It has to be Aegon and me. Not Viserys, his are paler. And the men were my height respectively._

"Then you know what you must do. You are the prince that was promised. It is known."

"Yes. I do know." The phantom feeling of the crown was even heavier. "Jon Snow has to die. His dragon must be ours. Rhaenys and Aegon have their eggs. The dragon must have three heads.

_I used to believe in the song of ice and fire as well…_

"Snow has to die quickly." Melisandre's necklace did not pulse as bright as before. The red light is flickering, each one weaker than the last. "I can't keep the connection concealed from Snow's side for long. The magic in the world is stronger than ever. As the great Other grows, so does the followers of the light. But Jon Snow is too strong to contain for very long…"

A knock on the door and Arthur's head peeked through. "My king, the prince and the princess waits without."

"Let them in."

Arthur nodded and started to exit.

"Arthur…you know what to do."

Not a thing could hide the shame on the Kingsguard's face, but all the same, he nodded obediently and let Rhaenys and Aegon through.

_I know that I'm not the best king. But Arthur…thank you._

**Jon**

It was hot. Everything was hot and burning and spinning, all at once. It was hard to think. His throat was dry. All of his limbs were weary. Those things were what he was feeling when he was first thrown in the damp and cold cell. He still felt them, but it was considerably better now.

He didn't know how long he been in here. It could have been days, months or even years if he was actually mentally and physically crazy.

_Whatever the case, it's been too long._

But the sense of absence in his mind was deafening. He felt alone. After being with Cannibal for so long, he doesn't know what else to feel.

 _They seared the connection._  He was lost as to what to say. He couldn't believe it.  _The Targaryens seared the connection, and they may take Cannibal for themselves._

 _No. That can't happen. Cannibal is too dangerous, too wild, and too powerful. They don't realize this. Cannibal only and always will like me._   _Everyone is going to die._

_Arya, Robb, Bran, Rickon, Sansa…_

Once, as soon as he had that thought, he had been crazy with fear and banged on bars with his hands and feet. He had enough sense to not try his teeth.

But nobody answered. Nobody even guarded his cell. No wonder, actually. He knew the cell he was in was deep in the bowls of Harrenhall. There was nothing he can do. Harrenhall was going to be burnt once again, but with more innocents.

_The Targaryens played me. They made me think I was their friend…and more than normal friends. Aegon. Arianna…Rhaenys._

His heart grew cold, and he didn't think it would be warm ever again. He was tired of being betrayed.

_I should've stayed in the north._

Jon thought of white snow…

_Ghost!_

He can definitely feel him. But how would a Direwolf, even a big one, break him out of this cell? But…he can feel something else nearby.

His musings were interrupted by the clanking of keys.

**Rhaenys**

The sound in the solar was as dead as the grave.

But she just wished the red woman was actually buried in a grave. She couldn't help from having the murderous thought in her head.

 _She ripped the connection apart? Oh, Jon…_  Her heart ached. She wanted to see him and tell him how she felt.  _Would he hate me?_

"When is the trial by combat?" Aegon asked quietly.

"Three days hence," said Rhaegar.

"What if Snow wins then?"

"He shan't."

"What if he  _does_? Arthur isn't a god, father."

"Snow isn't either."

"Ok nobody is a God! If Snow wins, were dead."

"It's no-"

"How can you be so inconsiderate?"

"Aegon you don't unde-"

"Isn't it smarter to have a dragon on our side rather on the other?!"

"The dragon has to have three he-"

"I don't want to know what sort of storm is brewing in your head!"

"I had a vis-"

"To hell with your visions!"

"The long n-"

"I hate you! What kind of king and father are you?!"

"…You hate your own father no-"

"Why do you want to kill the man I love?"

At that, both Aegon and Rhaegar fell silent. The question clearly made them uncomfortable.

"Snow is being given a fair trial," the red woman said.

"You want to kill him," Rhaenys repeated. "And nobody asked you to speak, bitch." She then looked at her father in the eye as deep as she can. "Please, father…whatever grudge you have against Jon just releases it. I love him. I don't want to see him get hurt."

She stood up, got to her knees and grabbed his hand. "Please?"

Rhaegar looked at her hand and then shook his head sadly. "No, my dragon. The trial will stand."

"What is your purpose?"

"To save the world."

"From what? You're just being a monster."

"Sometimes a world needs a monster."

**Jon**

He watched his breath steam in the cold night air.

The dark sky was lit all around by little twinkling stars. The moon was the brightest of them all, and it winked on the massive structure that is Harrenhall. The said castle was shrinking insight, second by second.

As the castle fell behind them, the sentry trees pressed in closer, tugging on his clothes and slashing at his face. Some stood taller than most and their tops looked like fingers stretching for the starry sky.

 _Crunch, crunch, crunch,_ the sound the leaves made as Ser Arthur marched him through the forest. Hands bound by rope and a mailed-hand on his shoulder, he was content to be pushed for now.

"Whatever the king intends to do it's not going to perform well," said Jon. "Set me free." All the while, he mentally stretched his fingers.

Arthur didn't deign to answer.

"My dragon is going to think I'm dead. Things are not going to end well, ser. Everyone is going to die here if you don't listen!"

Jon took a deep breath and released it. "I know you're leading me out here to kill me, Dayne. And by my guess, the king commanded you to do it."

The kingsguard didn't confirm his suspicions, only slowed down his pace a tad bit. It wasn't much, but it reassured that he was at least willing to listen.

"From the very moment I was born I lived in the shadows," Jon said. "At a very young age, I wondered what made everybody different from me. Then I learned the hard way. Bastard. That's what the godforsaken word is. From that time on, I was shunned, humiliated, rejected, friendless, and without a damn reason why anybody would care if died unexpectedly. I knew back then they would walk right over me and most of them wouldn't care."

He shrugged. "Perhaps I'm too used to being treated like I'm not worth a shit. Perhaps that's why I'm not comfortable with all the attention or love I received since I returned. I'm too used to being a bastard."

In the clearing, they stopped and Jon said, "Mayhap that's why king Rhaegar doesn't know that I'm his son."

A long pause pursued. The wind keened through the dark pine trees, ruffling Jon's roughspun tunic and his dark brown hair.

Arthur said, "Being a loveless bastard won't make you the son of the king."

 _He doesn't believe me._  Jon deflated.

The renowned kingsguard turned him around, and the sword on his back he clasped with one hand.

Jon stared at him unflinchingly.

Leather scraped on steel as the Greatsword was unsheathed. Silver moonlight gleamed up and down the length of the Valyrian sword. The blade was unnaturally sharp even for a blade of a rare kind, Jon noted, seeing his clear reflection of him staring back.

 _How many times my enemies thought the same before I cut them down?_  It was highly likely he deserved what he was going to get for delivering this to many people and creatures in recent years. The irony was not lost on him.

Arthur was helmless. His red-rimmed eyes and disheveled white hair were apparent.

"You are right. The king has ordered me to bring you out here to end your life," Arthur breathed out. "No witnesses. No intrusions."

"Are you going to kill me with my hands bound?"

"I can't disobey my king."

Jon didn't bother to answer. There was nothing else he can do.  _I'm not afraid of death Arthur, Rhaegar. But I do fear for my real family. Damn you all._

Jon stared at the stars and couldn't help but let his mind wander to Rhaenys and picture her lovely dark face yet again. Even when she betrayed him he couldn't stop thinking about her black hair, her olive skin, and her brown eyes.

He closed his eyes but couldn't find the peace before his ultimate death. The status of him being a longtime bastard and Cannibal's eventual bloody rampage hung over his head like a stormy cloud.

_What a person I am. I can't even rest my mind before my death._

Jon held his breath and waited…

…and the swoosh of Arthur's greatsword soared in his ear.

Jon opened his eyes and watched in shock as his ropes fell harmlessly to the ground.

Arthur slowly retracted his sword arm. He gave him a meaningful look. "I won't slay an unarmed man, no matter who it is. It's not chivalrous of a kingsguard." He grabbed hold of the sword on his belt, brandished it, and threw it on the grass five feet away. "You demanded a trial by combat…you are going to get one, Jon Snow."

As Jon slow backpedaled to seize the sword, he realized it was his. A long Valyrian sword, shining in the pale moonlight.

Arthur undid the clasp on his white-snowy cloak and let the wind blow it away gently to a spot by the stump of a tree. He then undid his armor and everything else he wore till he supported naught but a white tunic and brown pants.

Arthur swirled Dawn and eyed him intently.

 _I have to win this,_  Jon thought, getting into a proper stance and eyeing the long-feared Dayne.  _He is no Gerold. He's going to be the most difficult opponent I will ever face…but I will defeat him. I have to get Robb and everyone else out of here…_

As they stared eye-to-eye, the wind blew to ruffle their hair, the trees whispered to nothing, the grass swayed gently back and forth. The starry sky watched them from above twinkling silently.

He knew his heart was pounding. A lot depended on his moment.

"Are you scared to attack me, bastard?" asked Arthur.

Jon didn't reply but to carefully raise his sword up to his shoulder and eye, letting the tip of his sword point to Arthur, gripping the handle with both hands.

"Was cutting your bondage a mistake?" Arthur said. "Will I have to end you without you defending yourself anyway?"

Again he sat on his feet and waited, his mind mentally aware of big feet and paws striking the earth with powerful steps.

"Is this the famous white wolf that's too much of a coward to swing his sword? Did I unman you?"

Arthur paused. "Then I just have to come at you bastard!"

With an explosion first step Arthur swung at his midsection. Jon met it and locked it with force and let the Dayne drive him back to a tree. He ducked as soon as Arthur raised his arm. The greatsword flicked out and struck the limb of the tree. Spinning and crouched, Jon aimed at his unprotected knee. Arthur swept it aside and kicked his chest. With him sliding on his back from the force, Arthur sprinted and sliced downward.

Jon back-rolled parried.

Light on his toes, he started delivering a barrage of slices. High and low he after. Arthur evaded and gave him a backhanded slash that Jon responded with a block and a head butt.

Jon's swipe intended for his legs Arthur vaulted over. Back and forth they traded blows and counterattacks.

The dark wood was filled with the song of steel on steel. But in the back of his head, Jon can only hear powerful legs working the earth.

Slowly Arthur pushed him backward. The kingsguard's greatsword moved side-to-side and vertical in wide arcs with a steely resolve to take his head off. Arthur saw right past his next feint, and in an instant, something flashed over Jon's eye.

Jon hissed and successfully took a few steps back. His chin throbbed, and blood gradually seeped to the grass.

He knew they had been engaged for some time now and he was painfully aware of exhaustion catching up to him. Every night he was poorly fed and slept in dreary conditions. And Dayne was an unrelenting force of steel and strength.

 _How long can I keep this up?_ Jon didn't have time to answer his question because Arthur came upon him with his gleaming Greatsword. Twice Arthur landed a cut on him, and twice Jon lost his footing.  _He's the best I ever faced,_ Jon realized.  _I'm going to die._

Steel screeched as Dawn and Jon's long sword clashed and held in an x shape. Two-handed, Jon pushed. But Arthur did the same. Jon slid backward slowly…his blood seeping…his strength rapidly ebbing…

…time and existence slowed.

As Jon looked into Arthur's firm eyes, his life and friends and loved ones passed in front of his eyes.

He saw Arya laughing and chasing the stable boy around Winterfell with needle. He saw Sansa pouting when a smudge of dirt touched her new dress. He saw Rickon scream with glee as Shaggydog kissed his face. He saw Bran blushing as Lady Catelyn chastised after catching him in the act of climbing the walls. He saw Robb horse riding smiling as snowflakes melting in his hair. Then all of them screamed in agony as their skin thawed on their blackened and distorted bones. Cannibal flew above them all, dark emerald flame belching out of his between his black teeth. He can smell the ash.

Suddenly Jon's anger flared.

"You fool!" he shouted, pushing Arthur completely out of the lock. "Were all going to get burned and everyone won't listen!"

Jon surged forward with blow after blow, and Arthur's parries and blocks became more desperate than the last.

"Why did I do to the king, hmm?! What did I do to make father angry, hmm?! You're going to make my family die!" Angry tears built in his eyes.

"You're not his son," Arthur grunted. "You can't be."

Somehow that propelled his anger to new heights. Red filled his vision.

Jon fixed his face into a scowl and hammered Arthur's sword until the wood was loud with steel banging on steel. Arthur lost his feet when he rammed his shoulder into his chest. Jon managed to land a cut on his above his eye on the way down.

Jon moved…

…and stopped.

"AAAAAA," he screamed as Arthur's sword sliced at the palm of his sword hand. Blood and flesh and his Valyrian immediately collapsed to the red-soaked grass. Luckily, none of his fingers was hacked.

Jon held his hand and scrambled backward as Arthur stalked forward with deadly intent. A mental probe hit Jon's mind. And then came the pound of galloping…

Trees, bushes, and shrubs fell away as a huge dark outline bulled its way to Arthur's blindside. A thunderous roar and there was a sickening crunch as the enormous brown bear collided with the spooked Arthur.

Arthur was easily thrown off his feet. His sword spun away. The bear was on him in a heartbeat, all teeth, and claws. For a moment there was naught but the deeply satisfied rumbling of the bear and the barley contained groans by Arthur. And for a moment Jon was inside the bear and looked down at the defeated Kingsguard.

Eventually, the bear backed away and stood behind Jon on his hind legs. Ghost came bounding from the dark path.

All three of them were silent whilst they looked down upon the Dayne. His tunic was ripped and strewn. Bloody claw marks can be seen on his chest, arms and face. And the bear had been gobbling on his cheek.

"Good fight, ser," Jon had to acknowledge. "But it's very troubling to fight a warg, as you just found out." He gestured to the bear. "Yes, you can guess. This is the bear that killed your cousin. Say hello."

Arthur groaned.

"You should've been fighting it instead of fighting me."

Arthur groaned and twitched.

 _Arya, Robb, Sansa, Bran, Rickon!_ They can get out of here!

Just then a humongous hideous screech shook the world. Jon saw green. And saw the ebony monster named Cannibal fly above his head in the night in which he came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehe guess who's back? Cannibal and me Lmao


End file.
